


Friends Forever

by Desertgal (HowNovel)



Category: Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman, Starman (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1994-09-07
Updated: 1994-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:11:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 59,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowNovel/pseuds/Desertgal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul and Scott escape from Fox and land in the middle of a swarm of tornadoes in Kansas. Taken in by a friendly farm couple, they arrange for Paul to get a job at the newspaper where their son works.  As Scott and Clark explore their similarities, Paul and Clark realize they have similar desires for their lives. Meanwhile, Lois & Jimmy investigate a mystery and get in trouble. Their rescue requires the differing abilities of both aliens.  What does Fox do when he discovers there is another alien here on earth?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends Forever

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written in 1994. A lot has changed in 18 years:
> 
> \- It should be noted that this story was written before cell phones came into widespread use. There's a scene where people are fighting over a phone, and it's a landline!
> 
> \- Nor did digital cameras exist. There is film developing in this story. Of course a few die hard professional photographers still use film, but may have joined the 21st Century by the time you read this.
> 
> \- There is no such thing as self-adhesive stamps at the time the story was written. You had to lick them - and they only cost 29 cents!
> 
> \- This was also written before the days of airport security, when one did not need a picture ID to get on a plane. Paul and Scott fly under false names in this story. Today, I think Fox would be exhilarated by such a catastrophic gaffe, and just drop by the airport to collect his prisoners!

FRIENDS FOREVER  
By desertgal – Copyright 1994

Forward

 

As it says in the title block, FRIENDS FOREVER is a “Lois & Clark” crossover, not a SUPERMAN crossover. For those of you who haven't watched “Lois & Clark”, but who’ve seen other incarnations of SUPERMAN, this story might seem a little strange. “Lois & Clark” starts with Clark not knowing anything about where he came from, or why he is different from other people. Gradually, during the first season, he learns about his heritage. I’ve set FRIENDS FOREVER very early in the “Lois & Clark” series. Clark has learned he is from Krypton, but doesn't yet know anything about why he is on Earth.

“Lois & Clark” is warm, funny, and full of “family”. The feelings are real. The subtle humor is very much like “Starman”. The agony Clark feels because he is so alone is gut-wrenching. Clark has a very close, loving relationship with his parents. When he's troubled, or needs a listening ear, he calls on them. Jonathan and Clark Kent share the same kind of bond that Paul and Scott have.

###    
**Wednesday, May 14**  


Scott Hayden shifted the weight of the duffel bag on his shoulder and gazed out across the open prairie. “Hey Dad, I thought Kansas was supposed to be flat. This is the third hill we've crossed since we left Hays this morning.”

Paul Forrester smiled at his seventeen year old son. “I guess that means you should have paid more attention to your geography lessons, doesn't it? 'Most of Kansas is a rolling plain that increases in elevation from east to west. The state has three…'.”

“Ah, Dad, quit quoting the book. I studied, I just can't remember everything the way you do.” Scott gave his father a disgusted look, but seeing the sheepish smile on his face, had to smile in return. He'd gotten used to the total recall his alien father possessed, but his half-human brain just didn't seem to work the same way. Clenching his fist, Scott gave his dad a playful punch on the shoulder. “Okay, I'll try to do better. But right now, I'd like to 'study' lunch. Do we have enough money to stop some place? Maybe we'll be able to get another ride if we find civilization.”

Paul sighed as he contemplated his son's question. _A boy shouldn't have to worry about whether he's going to get his next meal, but being on the run makes a normal life impossible for us_. Two nights before, they had narrowly escaped George Fox in Denver. After hitching several rides, they now found themselves in western Kansas. “I think we can do that, if we find a place, but all I've seen for the last several hours is miles and miles of grass. No buildings and no people.”

Scott's laugh was long and loud. “Well, now I get to teach you something. And it was in the geography book, too. That isn't grass, it's wheat. Kansas grows more wheat than any other state in the country and before it gets ripe it looks like grass.”

Paul chuckled as he put his arm around his son's shoulders, marveling at how tall he'd become in the three years they'd been together. “I guess I missed that fact. Thanks for the lesson. You know how I like to learn new things.”

Father and son walked in silence for another hour before they came upon a small town. On the single, main street, Paul saw a few houses, a gas station, a cafe, and a post office. The biggest structures in town were two odd-shaped buildings with a sign painted on them: Sunflower Wheat Cooperative. He concluded they must be storage structures for the wheat they'd seen so much of during their walk. Paul pointed. “Look, Scott, a cafe. Let's get that lunch you wanted.”

“Yo-ho, fantastic! I'm starving.”

Upon entering the cafe, father and son took seats without discussion or comment in a booth where they could see both the door and out the windows. Paul felt a twinge of pain as he realized that the years together on the run had given them a sense of preservation that tainted even a simple action like finding a seat in a restaurant.

After he placed their order, Paul turned his attention to the only other customers in the place. The two men seated at the counter were engaged in a heated discussion. Paul noticed what appeared to be a great age difference in them.

“Sam, I tell you there's a twister coming. I feel it in my bones.”

“Zeke, you're always feeling things, but that doesn't make them happen.” Sam shook his head. “The weather conditions are all wrong. The skies are clear, it's cool, and there aren't any winds. Does that sound like a storm is coming? Besides, the Weather Bureau would let us know if something were brewing anywhere in the area.”

“Ah, you young city guys, all you trust are your measurements and technology.” Zeke slapped the counter with his large, wrinkled hand. “Warning systems aren't good for anything unless you get the message. Even if you do hear something, usually you have only a few minutes to react.”

“I know that, I'm not stupid. And even if I am from the city, I've lived in Kansas all my life. We have more tornadoes, and stronger tornadoes than anywhere else on this planet, but we also have the most sophisticated system of detection and warning in the country.” Sam shrugged. “I know sometimes a tornado will form and hit before they can get a warning out to the public. All I'm saying, is there are signs beforehand.”

“Yeah, like what I'm feeling right now. I tell you we're in for a big one and it'll be worse than the Harvey County tornado of 1990. I was in Hesston when that one hit and I'll never forget it. A half mile wide and lasting two hours, it was the most awesome twister I've ever seen in 71 years of living in Kansas.” Zeke shook his head at the memory, “The aches in my bones are the same now, as they were then. You can sit here if you want, but I'm going home and get ready.” Zeke slid off the stool and walked away from the counter without a backward glance at his young friend.

Paul watched the older man leave, and then thought for a moment. Remembering the definition he said, “'Tornado—a turbulent, twisting column of air extending from the base of a cumulonimbus cloud to the ground with winds that can exceed 300 miles per hour. Damage paths can be in excess of one mile wide and fifty miles long. Tornadoes are nature's most violent, destructive storms over a small area'.” Tilting his head sideways, Paul said, “Scott, tornadoes are dangerous. Do you think that man was right? He seemed very sure of himself.”

“How should I know? I've never been here before.” Scott had spoken sharply and after a few minutes of sullen silence he looked at his father with regret in his eyes. “I'm sorry, but talking about the weather doesn't seem very important.” He took a deep breath. “What are we going to do now? Fox found us after only a couple of weeks.”

Paul sighed and gazed sadly at his son. “I thought we'd be safe in a city as big as Denver but…. Maybe we should try staying low profile around here. There sure is a lot of open space.”

* * * * * * 

“Hey, honey, that blame-fool turkey is out of his pen again. I've got to go round him up.”

“Well, don't be long. I'd like you to pick some peas for dinner.”

As he grabbed a jacket and started out the front door, Jonathan turned to look at his wife. He shook his head in disgust. “I don't know why I keep that bird. He's nothing but trouble.”

“Where do you suppose he's gone?”

“Out in the corn where he always goes. I'll be back as soon as I can.” Jonathan walked out onto the porch and squinted in the sunlight. Scanning the sky, he saw some fluffy white clouds gathering in the west and felt a light wind blowing. _Hmm_ , he thought, _I wish those were rain clouds. The corn could sure use a good soaking_.

* * * * * * 

After leaving the cafe, Paul and Scott hitched a ride that took them about sixty miles farther east. They'd seen no towns since the man had let them out, about three hours ago. Though they wanted to avoid the cities, Paul knew if they were to stay in the area, he'd need to get a job. He also knew the prospects of employment weren't good here in the country. He was deep in thought when he realized Scott was talking to him.

“…hot all of a sudden. There was a cool breeze when we left the cafe, but now, everything seems so still. Can we find some shade and rest for a minute?”

Paul looked around the flat plain. “There are some buildings over there,” he said, pointing towards the horizon, “but other than those, I don't see anything that would give shade. Do you want me to make some?”

“No, Dad,” Scott chuckled. “I don't think that would be a good idea. I just wish it weren't so muggy.”

“Muggy?”

“It means humid, sticky, sultry, wet, moisture in the air. I don't know how to explain it.”

“Yes, I've noticed 'muggy'. It doesn't feel very good. It makes it seem hotter than it really is. But, you know, Scott, I've also noticed something else.”

“What?”

“There are no…sounds.”

“Huh?”

“There are no sounds of insects, birds, animals, nothing. Doesn't that seem odd?”

Scott stopped walking and listened. “Yeah. I wonder why?”

“I don't have any idea, but it just doesn't seem right. I don't like it.” Paul nodded towards the buildings. “Maybe we'll find someone up there to ask. Let's go.”

After a few more minutes of walking, Scott felt the wind start to pick up. He pointed at the sky, “Look at that big, black cloud over there. I have a feeling it's going to rain soon.”

“I think you're right, but I've never seen a green sky before. What do you think that means?”

Just then a flash of lightning cut across the sky, followed in a few seconds by the rolling of thunder. “I don't know what the green means, Dad, but I know we're going to get wet. Run for it!”

* * * * * * 

“You stupid turkey, will you move it? The barn's that way.” Jonathan walked behind the bird waving his arms. The turkey stayed just out of reach, but never walked more than a few feet at a time. He would then stop and stare off into the distance. “Now, I wonder what's gotten into that bird. He's never been this hard to herd before.” Looking at his watch, Jonathan realized he’d been out for an hour and a half. He studied the sky for a moment and saw the clouds coming closer and getting nasty looking.

Suddenly, a roar like a freight train filled the air. Jonathan turned toward the sound just in time to see a funnel cloud touch the ground about a quarter mile away. Realizing he was too far from the house to be able to reach shelter, Jonathan threw himself into a ditch and put his arms over his head. “Jonathan! You fool! You should have seen this coming. I just hope this ditch is deep enough that the twister will pass over me.”

 

“Dad, look,” Scott shouted as he pointed towards the thin, white funnel reaching down from a lumpy-bottomed, mushroom-shaped cloud, “a tornado! It's coming this way! What are we going to do?”

“I don't know,” Paul said, pulling the sphere from his pocket, “but I won't let it hurt us.” Just then, the twister touched the ground five hundred feet from them, instantly turning an angry black color as its swirling winds picked up dirt, wood, and other debris. It bounced once, rose into the air and moved away rapidly.

“Wow!” Scott pointed towards the receding funnel. “It just appeared out of nowhere. And that sound, it was like a giant sucking on a huge straw. I've never seen or heard anything like it.”

“Neither have I, and I don't want to again.” Paul hugged his visibly shaken son and shared the feeling of relief at their close call.

Breaking the embrace, Scott asked, “What did you do to stop it?”

Paul held the sphere up between his thumb and forefinger. “Nothing. Father Earth did it all on his own.”

At first not understanding what his father meant Scott frowned for a moment. Suddenly he grinned. “That's Mother Nature, Dad.”

Paul wiggled his eyebrows up and down a couple of times and smiled. “I knew that,” he said as he placed the sphere back in his pocket. “We'd better move faster. It's starting to rain and we need to get to those buildings before the storm gets worse.”

 

Jonathan stood up and watched the last wisps of the funnel disappear. “Hey, old man,” he mumbled, “that was close. You better get yourself to the house.” He ran his fingers through his hair and let out a deep breath. “I can't believe I got caught out here, but then, there were no signs of a storm when I started after that silly bird.” He stared at the turkey sitting on the ground in front of him. “So are you coming with me, or do I leave you out here to drown?”

As they ran across the open ground, Paul and Scott caught sight of a man in the middle of the field and changed direction to meet him.

It startled Jonathan to see the man and boy appear out of the rain. “What are you two doing out here?”

“We were walking towards those buildings when we almost got caught in the tornado,” Paul said. “Is there someplace we can get out of this rain?”

“Yes, we'd better get to the house. It's too wet to talk out here and that's dangerous lightning.” Looking at the bird, Jonathan shook his head. “I can't make the stupid turkey move so we'll just have to leave him.”

Paul took notice of the animal for the first time. He was sitting quietly with his head hanging down and his eyes closed. The Starman extended his hand to the turkey and after a few seconds the bird stood up, gobbled a couple of times and trotted towards the buildings.

Jonathan's jaw dropped. “Well, I never.... What did you do? I haven't been able to get him to move at all.”

Before Paul could respond, Scott yelled, “Dad! There's another tornado, and this one’s bigger!”

Looking in the direction Scott pointed, both Paul and Jonathan saw the massive, black funnel coming towards them. It was already on the ground and only two hundred feet away, with winds many times stronger than those in the previous twister.

Without a second thought, Paul pulled the sphere from his pocket and connected with it. He projected the blue energy beam at the base of the twister and lifted it forty feet above the ground. With the immediate danger stopped, he next equalized the temperature and pressure in the funnel, which caused the winds to slow. As the twister died, Paul closed his fingers over the sphere and put it into his pocket. He turned and saw two pairs of eyes watching him.

“This time, I know it wasn't Mother Nature. How'd you do that?” Scott asked.

Paul shrugged. “A tornado is nothing more than energy in motion, so it wasn't difficult to make it stop.”

Opening and closing his mouth a couple of times, Jonathan finally managed to speak. “That was quite something you just did.” Certain what he'd just seen was not of this world, he asked, “I guess you must not be from around here?”

Since there didn't seem to be any reason to try to hide the truth, Paul spoke quietly. “No, I'm not.”

“Then you're a visitor?” Jonathan glanced towards the sky.

“Yes.” Paul paused, wondering what the man's reaction would be.

Jonathan let out the breath he'd been holding and offered his hand. “Welcome,” he said as he shook Paul's hand in both of his. He continued to hold Paul's hand and gazed into his eyes for a moment before remembering more pressing things. “We really have to get to the house. My wife will be worried. You two can stay with us tonight because traveling in this storm would not be a good idea. Come on, follow me.” Jonathan headed off towards the buildings, catching up to the turkey and shooing him along as he went.

Paul and Scott exchanged a look of wonder at how casual this man was about the things he'd just seen. They both knew that normally when Paul told someone about himself, there was a period of disbelief or even fear. Though the man's attitude was a puzzle, Paul felt no danger when he took his hand, and decided they’d be safe here. Father and son followed along behind the man in silence.

* * * * * * 

FSA agent George Fox sat on the edge of the bed in his dimly lit Denver motel room, mumbling to himself. “Two hours, it was just two hours. They couldn't have been gone any longer than that. How did we miss them? If that incompetent cop and that imbecile Wylie had been at their posts, they never would have gotten past us.”

Reflecting back on the failed capture of the alien and its offspring, Fox knew staying in Denver was probably a waste of time. _If they managed to get a ride, getting a lead on which direction they took will be more difficult, but if they had to walk for any distance, maybe someone will have seen them. At any rate, I'm going to ask some more questions in the morning. The last six hours of searching haven't turned up anything_. He switched off the light, and lay back on the bed.

“What was that?” At a persistent 'knock, knock, knock' he sat up again. “Who’s at the door at this hour?” Fox went to the door and shouted without opening it, “Who is it?”

“It's me, Mr. Fox, Wylie.”

“Wylie? What do you want?”

He knew his boss would be angry no matter what he did, so Wylie said as confidently as he could, “I have something I think you should see.”

Fox pulled open the door with an angry jerk and screamed, “What? Is it something from Washington? Or is it a lead on the alien?”

“N-no, Mr. Fox,” Wylie stammered. “It's a newspaper article, about another alien, back east. I thought…”

“The problem with you, Wylie, is you never think. I don't want to see any of your tabloid trash about space aliens. I'm only interested in the real thing.” Slamming the door, Fox walked to the bed and flung himself down. “Imbecile!”

Wylie looked again at the headline, “Alien Invasion of Earth”, then folded the paper and walked away dejectedly. He admitted to himself that when he'd gone to the hotel gift shop earlier in the day he was looking for a paper of the type Mr. Fox would call a tabloid, but the lady at the desk said they didn't carry that kind of paper. She'd been very nice and promised to see what she could do for him.

When he returned to his room a short while ago, Wylie found this three month old copy of the _New York Daily Star_ along with a note from the lady. 'I found this buried behind the counter. I hope you like it. Take it, complements of the hotel. Ellen.'

 _The_ New York Daily Star _is one of the most respected papers in the world_ , Wylie thought to himself. _It isn't a tabloid. The report of this alien sighting is too well covered by the mainstream press to be just another hoax. I've tried to tell Mr. Fox about it before, but he won't listen and I know eventually, I'm going to be in trouble._

* * * * * * 

As Jonathan, Paul, and Scott entered the house Jonathan called to his wife, “Martha, we have guests for dinner.”

Rushing out of the kitchen, Martha exclaimed, “Jonathan, are you all right?”

“I'm fine, honey.”

“When the radio broadcast the tornado warning and you weren't here, I was worried. I looked for you, but when I saw the funnel coming all I could do was go to the shelter and hope you'd be all right. As soon as the winds died down I came out to see if you were back and when you weren't, I was really scared.”

“There was no need. I'm okay.”

“But I had no way to know that.” Martha smiled at her husband, and then took notice of the tall, handsome man and teenage boy standing beside him. She extended her hand and said, “Welcome. My name is Martha Kent. We're happy to have you here. No one should be out in this storm.”

Paul felt a pleasant warmth, similar to what he'd felt from her husband, as he shook the woman's hand. “I'm Paul Forrester and this is my son, Scott. I'm glad we found your husband, er…”

“Jonathan. Jonathan Kent. I guess in all the excitement I forgot to introduce myself.”

“Thank you for taking us in, Mr. and Mrs. Kent. I've never seen weather like this before.”

“Please, it's Martha and Jonathan. We're not very formal out here in Smallville.” Martha put her arm around Jonathan's waist. “Well, maybe you haven't been in a tornado before, but this husband of mine sure has.” Martha pounded one fist lightly on Jonathan's chest and said scoldingly, “haven't you lived in Kansas long enough to know better than to be outside when there are tornadoes around?”

“Honey, you know when I went outside there was hardly a cloud in the sky. This storm came up suddenly.” He hugged his wife and gave her a quick kiss. Jonathan glanced at Paul as he remembered what he'd seen in the field. “Dear,” he paused momentarily, “Paul and Scott aren't from here.”

“Yeah, I figured that out already.”

Jonathan put both his hands on his wife's shoulders, “No. I mean they really aren't…from…here.” Jonathan gazed into his wife's eyes, and then glanced upwards.

Martha looked from her husband to the strangers several times, then, she understood. “Oh.” A friendly smile came to her face. Breaking away from her husband, she again took Paul's hand. “I'm so happy to meet you. Is it true?” She glanced at Paul and Scott, and then asked, “Are you really visitors?”

Even though he felt sympathy, compassion and mounting excitement coming from Martha, Paul still hesitated before speaking. “Yes, I am a visitor to your world.”

As Martha shook Scott's hand, she said, “It's such a pleasure to have you here.”

“We're the ones glad to be here,” Scott said quietly, as he glanced between his father and Mrs. Kent.

No longer able to contain herself, Martha's enthusiasm spilled over. “Where are you from? Is it in this galaxy? How long have you been here? Are you the only two here or are there more? How long…?”

“Martha! Give Paul a chance to talk. Don't get so excited.”

Paul put his arm around his son. “I think we should sit down and talk. I will answer what I can of your questions. But, first I want to know one thing. You two seem to welcome the idea of alien visitors. Have you met 'visitors' before?”

Martha looked at her husband. She realized they couldn't tell all they knew about extraterrestrials, but they had to say something. “We've known for many years that we're not alone in the galaxy. We saw a spacecraft over twenty-five years ago.”

Paul glanced at Scott. “It must have been a good experience, since you both seem so at ease with this.”

Jonathan took his wife's hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Yes, Paul, it was a very good experience. Neither of us would change anything about it.” He paused to share another silent moment with his wife, then said, “Martha, don't you think all these questions can wait until after we eat? Besides, all three of us are soaking wet and need to dry off.”

“Yes, of course, dear, we'll have time to talk later.” Martha smiled warmly as she faced their guests. “The two of you can share Clark's room.”

“Clark?” Scott asked.

“Our son. He's a reporter in Metropolis and doesn't live here anymore. But we still have his room made up for when he's visiting. Come on now, let's get you settled.” Martha turned and motioned for them to follow.

 

“Are you guys ready for dinner?” Martha shouted down the hall, as she took a pot of soup off the stove. She smiled when she saw Jonathan come out of the bedroom, but that smile quickly faded as she heard the radio broadcast.

“The National Weather Service has issued a tornado watch effective until 10:45 p.m. Central daylight time for the following locations: Rice, Ellsworth, and Saline counties. Be prepared to…” The announcement was interrupted by the sound of the Emergency Broadcast System alert tones. “Attention! Attention! At 5:10 p.m. Central daylight time the Ellsworth County sheriff's office has indicated a tornado on the ground, that's a tornado on the ground three miles southeast of Smallville moving northeast at fifteen miles per hour. By 5:20 p.m. Central daylight time this tornado will move through Smallville.

“People in the projected path of the tornado should move to a shelter below ground if available, otherwise go to a small interior room on the lowest floor possible. Avoid windows. Abandon cars and mobile homes for a steadier building or get into a ditch or culvert. This is a very dangerous storm. Act quickly. Besides numerous tornadoes being reported in the area, expect very heavy rains, strong winds, deadly lightning, and the possibility of golf-ball size hail. Repeat: If you are in the path of this dangerous storm, seek shelter immediately.”

As the message repeated, Jonathan ran outside and Martha dashed down the hall to Clark's room. “Paul, Scott, there's another tornado in the area. We have to get to the shelter, now.” She knocked on the door, and then pushed it open. “Come on, I'll show you the way.” The three of them sprinted to the back of the house and met Jonathan just as he opened the shelter. The single, heavy door started at the ground and slanted upwards, meeting the house about two feet above ground.

Jonathan entered first, turning on the battery-powered lantern sitting at the bottom of the stairs and the battery-powered radio on the shelf. Standing behind Paul and Scott, Martha urged their guests to enter the shelter. “Down the stairs you two.”

Paul turned to look at the angry sky. “I don't see a tornado.”

“You don't have to see it. It's close, and is coming this way. Now, hurry!”

After everyone had scrambled inside and the door was latched, Paul surveyed his surroundings. The room was small, dug into the earth about seven feet deep and eight feet square. They sat on benches pushed against the rough, wood-lined walls. A piece of old carpet covered the floor. Cupboards along one wall contained various supplies including some tools, flashlights, jugs filled with water, and some food staples.

Paul scanned the faces of the Kents. “You don't seem very excited or upset. Does this kind of thing happen often?”

“We have our share of twisters, but they don't usually come this close.” Martha smiled reassuringly. “Also, having three of them one right after another is quite unusual.”

Scott, not as calm as his adult companions, felt this room was too much like a cell where Fox might put them. It reminded him of being locked in the pantry at Antonia Weyburn's. “How long do we have to stay in here?”

Martha walked over to the father and son and placed a hand on Scott's shoulder. “Not long. You listen for the winds to get quiet, and for the radio to say it's all clear, and then you know it's all right to leave. It just pays to be safe, so we use the shelter whenever an alarm is sounded, or whenever the sky gets threatening.”

Scott cocked his head sideways and listened to the howling wind. Hail stones hitting the shelter door sounded like gunfire and the thunder crashed almost constantly. “It sure is spooky in here.” He smiled weakly. “But I suppose it's better than taking a ride to Oz like Dorothy.” Jonathan and Martha joined Scott in his laughter.

Not understanding the joke, Paul looked into the faces of each of his companions, then asked, “Who's Dorothy?”

Scott grimaced, “Dad! Not now.”

Martha and Jonathan exchanged a look, and then Jonathan grinned. “I suppose our myths and stories would seem a little strange to you. Dorothy was a character in a story about a tornado.”

“Oh.” Paul said.

“Scott, you seem to understand more than your father,” Martha stated. “How's that possible?”

Scott wasn't used to talking about himself or his father so openly. He glanced at his dad and saw him nod slightly. “My mom's from Wisconsin. She had to give me up when I was three to keep the government from putting me in a test tube.”

“What do you mean?” Martha asked.

“The government wanted to take me away from her, to experiment on me, to try to find out things about my dad. It was too dangerous for me to stay with her, so she left me with a foster family. They took care of me until my dad came back three years ago.”

A stab of pain pierced Martha's heart. As the adoptive mother of an exceptionally special child, she felt an immediate kinship with this unknown woman.

Paul saw a look of pain, or maybe understanding pass between the Kents and wondered why he felt these people were so interesting and different. He took up the story and told of his first visit to Earth, meeting Jenny, and traveling across the country with her. He described how they came to care for each other and told of giving her a baby.

Paul looked fondly at Scott, and continued his story by describing his return to Earth, the meeting with his son, and ending with a description of their capture and escape from Peagrum, and their most recent escape from Denver. “Since my return, we've been trying to stay ahead of the FSA and find Jenny. George Fox thinks I'm a threat to the world.”

Martha reached out and grasped Paul's hand. “But you're not.” She paused and gazed deeply into his eyes. “I know you're not. Why can't people understand that just because someone is different, they aren't necessarily a menace? It just isn't right.”

* * * * * * 

“Hey, C.K., look at this.” Jimmy Olson turned up the volume on the television in the _Daily Planet_ newsroom. It was after seven and most of the staff had already left. Both Clark Kent and Lois Lane joined him in front of the set just as a picture of the Smallville city hall appeared on the screen.

The roof and one side of the brick building were gone and the other three walls were broken at jagged angles. Shattered glass, furniture, and wood was scattered in the street. “This is an LNN special report. Southwestern and central Kansas has felt the fury of at least ten major tornadoes and several smaller ones since mid-afternoon. Most of downtown Great Bend, Smallville, and Salina have sustained severe damage. There are five confirmed fatalities and hundreds of reported injuries. Property damage from these storms will reach into the millions.”

The screen changed to show a picture of a huge funnel cloud advancing upon a house and barn. “We now go to June Paulson at the Severe Storms Forecast Center in Kansas City, Missouri, for an explanation of what we're seeing in this amateur video taken near Hays earlier today. Go ahead, June.”

“The tornado you see here came from a squall line of thunderstorms that contains supercells. It's being fed by warm, moist air from the Gulf of Mexico and a cool, low pressure system moving in from the Rockies. This tornado has already traveled 150 miles and shows no sign of weakening.”

The announcer asked, “I didn't think a tornado lasted that long?”

June continued, “You're right. It's unusual for a tornado to last more than a few minutes. Also, most are less than a quarter of a mile wide, and travel no farther than fifteen miles. In the United States, only about two percent of all tornadoes are classified as violent, but those few account for almost seventy percent of the nation's tornado deaths.”

The announcer broke in again. “June, could you tell our viewers what makes these tornadoes different from the average?”

“To do that, you have to understand something about the weather phenomena that creates them. A supercell is a large, rotating parent thunderstorm of exceptional violence that often spawns several strong tornadoes in succession. Though rare, these storms are the most dangerous because they travel great distances without losing much of their strength.”

“Thank you for the update, June. We'll be talking to you again later in the broadcast. We go now to a live interview with a survivor of one of the tornadoes that touched down outside Smallville. Go ahead, Marty.”

A middle-aged woman appeared on the screen standing beside the correspondent, a pile of broken and twisted wood and glass visible in the background. “Can you tell us what happened, Mrs. Williams?”

“I saw this huge black cloud coming right at us, my grandson and I. The wind began blowing, and the sky got blacker and blacker. We ran inside the house and crowded into the shelter, just as the tornado hit. The whole house exploded. It was like a bomb going off.” She paused and looked around. With a quiver in her voice, and tears in her eyes, she continued, “We're lucky to be alive. There's nothing left.”

“I know her!” Clark exclaimed. “She lives only a few miles from my parents.” Grabbing at his tie, he started toward the door. “I've got to go to them.”

“Wait, Clark,” Lois called. “You can't go out there now. I'm sure all the flights will have been rerouted or delayed.”

Jimmy placed a hand on his friend's arm, “Lois is right, C.K.. Try calling first. Your parents might be fine. These things can demolish one place and completely miss one only a few feet away.”

Clark looked from Lois to Jimmy, and then back at the television set. His emotions were in a turmoil as he thought, _I don't need a plane to get to Kansas, but I can't explain that. Rushing out now will raise questions I can't answer, so I'll make the phone call. A few more minutes won't matter_.

“Okay guys, I guess you're right.” Clark went to his desk and managed to punch the phone buttons at normal speed. When he heard a message saying all lines were down, Clark knew he had to go to Kansas. However, in order to give himself an easy exit from the building, he pretended to be talking to his mother. “…Bye, Mom. Love you.”

“Now, wasn't that easier, C.K.?” Jimmy slapped his friend on the back. “Instead of standing in a line somewhere, you already know your parents are fine.”

“Yeah, you guys were right. I just panicked. In all the years I lived in Kansas, we were only threatened by tornadoes twice. Lots of them came close, but we never suffered any serious damage. I guess the Kent luck is still holding. But I'm going to my apartment now. It's late and I'm tired.”

Clark grabbed his suit coat from the back of his chair, and entered the elevator. As soon as he was alone in the alley, he took flight as Superman. He'd be home in just a few minutes.

* * * * * * 

“Martha, don't you think we could have dinner now?” Jonathan asked. “The hail has quit and the winds are much quieter. I believe the worst is over.”

“Yes, I think you're right.” She laughed. “It's a good thing I cooked something easy to reheat. We've been in here almost two hours, so I know the soup is cold.”

Just then, as if in confirmation, the radio announcer said, “The severe storm system has moved out of the area. However, there still are gusty winds, some flooding, and heavy rain continuing. Be extremely careful as you leave your shelter. If you are in an area where hail is still falling, remain inside.”

They all stood and Jonathan went to the ladder. He climbed up a couple of steps, released the latch and pushed the door open, then studied the sky. The clouds were mostly a medium gray, with some lighter patches where the setting sun was trying to peak through. He decided the worst of the storm was past, even though it was still raining fairly hard. He climbed out of the shelter and reached down to help his wife.

Just as Martha started up the steps, a strong gust of wind blew through the yard. Hearing a loud groan and creak, she looked up and saw a large limb dangling from the oak tree. She yelled, “Jonathan! Look out!” It was too late. The limb, broken from the tree during the storm, came crashing down, knocking Jonathan to the ground.

“Jonathan!” Martha shouted, as she scrambled up the ladder. “Jonathan, are you all right?” Seeing her husband lying motionless, she bent over him, ignoring the rain that came down in sheets. Blood was pulsing from a large, ragged cut on the side of his head.

Quickly climbing out of the shelter, Paul and Scott knelt beside the Kents. Scott tried to shield Jonathan from the rain but wasn't having much success.

“I've got to call the doctor,” Martha yelled. “Please, stay here with him,” she cried as she ran into the house.

Martha returned in less than a minute and saw Paul examining her husband. Kneeling beside them, she said, “The phone lines must be down. I can't get through.” She scanned the sky and saw the clouds were lighter, but knew that could change quickly. “We have to get him inside. If the hail starts again, it can be as dangerous as a tornado.”

Paul looked deeply into the distraught woman's eyes and said quietly, “No, Martha, we can't move him.”

“But we have to! He can't stay out here.”

“Please, listen to me. It would not be good to move him right now. He has a concussion, and this arm and leg are broken. But the worst injury is his back. It's twisted and if we move him, he could be paralyzed.”

Martha knelt by her husband and brushed the wet hair from his face. Turning back to Paul, she asked, “How do you know what's wrong with him?”

“I just do,” Paul replied calmly.

Not really sure she understood, Martha said, “Okay, but if what you say is true, it just proves we have to do something and now!”

As she began to pull at Jonathan's shirt in an attempt to move him, Paul reached out and took Martha's hands. She struggled to avoid his grasp, but could not. After a brief moment she relaxed as the tension vanished from her body.

“Scott, I'm going to need your help. Would you take care of Martha?”

“Sure, Dad.” The boy stood and took hold of the woman's shoulders, helping her to her feet. He watched his father pull the sphere from his pocket and connect with it. Almost instantly, the rain stopped hitting them as Paul projected an energy dome above their heads.

“Now, son, take out your sphere and maintain this shield. Do you think you can do that?”

Seeing a look of encouragement in his father's eyes, Scott took a deep breath, removed the sphere from his pocket, and connected with it. The blue glow appeared, at first shaky and weak, but soon it grew steady and bright.

Martha gazed up in wonder. She'd seen her son do many unusual things, but this was completely different. When she looked back at Paul, she saw him touching Jonathan gently with his left hand while the blue glow from the sphere in his right completely enveloped her husband. Martha was so intent upon watching what was happening in front of her, she didn't notice the arrival of the man in the red, blue, and yellow suit.

Superman flew toward his family's home at top speed, scanning it with both super-vision and super-hearing. He saw his father's accident, and was frustrated because he was too far away to prevent it. As Superman landed beside the barn, he saw his parents and the two strangers surrounded by a softly glowing blue light. He wanted to rush in and carry his father to safety, but this visitor seemed to have everything under control. Superman decided to stay out of sight and wait, watch and listen.

Jonathan opened his eyes and blinked. He saw a strange blue glow overhead, and wondered where he was. When he saw the face of his wife and Scott above him, he realized he was on the ground and remembered the fall he'd taken. Feeling a hand on his side, Jonathan turned to see Paul seated beside him. He put his elbow on the ground, and started to lift himself, “What…?”

“No,” Paul said decisively, “don't move, and don't try to talk. When I'm finished, we'll get you inside. You had a bad accident.” Paul worked for a few more minutes, then closed his fingers over the sphere to extinguish its light, and placed it in his pocket. He helped Jonathan to a sitting position and asked, “How do you feel?”

“I guess I'm okay.” Jonathan patted his arms, legs, and chest. “Nothing hurts.” Pointing upwards, he asked, “What's that?”

Scott looked at his father, then at Jonathan. “It's just a…” pausing briefly, he finished in a rush, “just a way to keep the rain off.”

Because of the experience of raising his own special son, Jonathan understood the boy's unease at talking about his alien heritage. He didn't ask for more of an explanation. Putting his hands on the ground, he started to stand.

“Oh, honey, please be careful,” Martha exclaimed. “That was a close call.” She and Paul reached down and helped Jonathan to his feet. “Let's get you inside where it's warm.” Martha placed Jonathan's arm across her shoulders and started towards the house, but stopped when she realized their guests weren't following. “Come on, you two. What are you waiting for?”

Paul sensed a presence unlike any he'd felt before. “You go on, Scott; I have something I need to do.”

“What is it, Dad?”

“It’s nothing, really. You go on to the house.”

Scott closed his fingers over the sphere and let the shield drop. He sprinted to the house to get out of the rain, and arrived at the door in time to open it for the Kents.

Paul removed the sphere from his pocket, connected with it, and began scanning the area. He focused for a moment, and then walked straight to the barn. Opening the door, he found a strangely dressed man inside and remembered recently seeing pictures of this person in a newspaper. “How long have you been here?”

“Not long, but I've been watching for quite a while.” Superman wondered how this man knew he was in the barn, since he was certain no one had seen him land.

Though he felt he already knew the answer, Paul still asked, “You're not of this world, are you?”

Superman looked at the man in front of him and contemplated the things he'd seen in the last hour. He shook his head and smiled. “No, I'm not.” He paused briefly. “And I don't think you are either.”

Paul lifted the sphere to illuminate both their faces. “We are a couple of strange ones, I guess. What are you doing here?”

“When I heard about the devastation from the tornadoes, I came to help. But it looks like you already have these problems under control.”

This wasn't the answer to the question Paul was asking. However, sensing the man didn't want to say more about why he was on Earth, or how he came to be in the Kent's barn, Paul let it drop. “We just had a little accident. I did what I had to do.”

“That's quite some talent you have. They call me 'Super'man but I can't mend broken bones or heal wounds. I can see the injuries with my x-ray vision, and can do some things with my heat vision, but nothing like what I just saw you do.”

“Well, I can't fly or do the kinds of things the newspapers say you do. I think…”

Superman turned quickly towards a scream he heard with his super-hearing. He said, “I'm sorry, but someone's in trouble and I have to go. Maybe we'll meet again.”

“I'd like that. We can talk more about…about things we might have in common.”

“Yes, we could. Thank you for helping my…er…for helping these people.” Walking outside, he raised his arm and flew into the night sky.

* * * * * * 

Lex Luthor leaned back in his chair and took a long pull on his cigar. He glanced at the man seated beside him then turned towards the flickering television screen. A beautiful woman held a ring in her palm as the announcer described the item. “This magnificent ruby and diamond ring is part of the Eddie Levian Designer Collection. It can be yours for only $1195.99 or six easy payments of $199.34 for credit card customers only. Call 1-800-555-5776 and ask for item number A4221. For fastest service, have your credit card ready, or send check or money order to the address listed below. Sorry, no COD's.” As the address flashed on the screen, the announcer continued, “This is LSN, the Luthor Shopping Network, bringing you twenty-four hours of home buying opportunities. Stay tuned. We'll be right back.”

Luthor hit the mute button as the commercial started. “Will this plan of yours really work, Gregson?”

The short, thin man fidgeted with excitement. “I'm sure it will, Mr. Luthor. The lab results with the chimps have been excellent. Anywhere from ten minutes to an hour after ingestion, LL485 affected their brains as predicted. Of course, we can't be completely certain LL485 will have the desired effect on humans until we do some testing.”

“And when will that be?” Luthor snapped as he took another pull on his cigar and stared at George Gregson. With the smoke curling around his head, Luthor thought, _several months ago this irritating little chemist came to me with the idea for LL485. I almost threw the wimpy nerd out, but his plan intrigued me. If it works, LexCorp will earn millions in profits, so I'll put up with him, for a while, anyway._

“We're in production now. The first test will be at the World Gymnastics Championships later this week.”

“Why there? Wouldn't someplace in Metropolis be easier?”

George Gregson sighed. _Lex Luthor is an intelligent man, but sometimes he doesn't seem to have the sense God gave a goose. Why do I always have to explain the simplest concepts to him_. “If LL485 works on a group of the most dedicated athletes in the world, it will certainly work on your average housewife, teenager, businessman, anyone. It's the perfect place for our test.”

“Good.” Luthor indicated to Gregson the interview was over by standing. “I'm anxious to hear the results.”

* * * * * * 

The conversation during dinner centered mostly on the storm and tornadoes, as the lightning continued to illuminate the night sky and the rolling of the thunder seemed never to stop. The hard, driving rain that had started coming down earlier continued to fall.

With everyone helping, the dishes were done quickly, and the four of them went into the living room. Martha and Jonathan sat side by side on the couch, holding hands. Paul and Scott were in chairs facing them. Looking first into her husband's eyes, then into Paul's, Martha began, “I don't know what you did out there, but I know you saved Jonathan's life. Thank you.”

“I did what needed to be done,” Paul said. “Even though it exposes my son and me to greater danger, I can't look past people who are hurting, people in trouble, knowing I could help. I just can't do that.”

Jonathan thought, _That's interesting. That sounds a lot like something Clark would say_. “You know, Paul, that's twice today you've saved my life. I wish there was something I could do for you and Scott, but nothing can compare to what you've given me.”

“What he's given us, you mean.” Martha squeezed her husband's hand. “I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“I know what I've done today may seem miraculous,” Paul said, “but I have to ask you not to say anything about it to anyone. We've already told you about the government agent who's after us. He wants to put both of us in a cage, experiment on us…”

“…and dissect you like a frog,” Jonathan finished. He paused for a moment and glanced at his wife. “You can be sure no one will ever hear about you from us. We've already told you we had an experience with a visitor many years ago. You and Scott are the only people we've ever told about that. It's very important to us, for you to keep our secret as well.”

Paul sensed there was more to the Kent's previous encounter than they were willing to share. Not wanting to pry, he changed the subject. “Actually, there is something you could do for us.” Paul looked at Scott, then his hosts. “My son and I would like to stay away from large cities for a while. Do you know of any work in the area?”

“What kind of work?” Jonathan asked.

“Paul Forrester was a photojournalist. I've often found work in his field. But actually, I'll do anything.”

“Yeah,” Scott laughed, “my dad picks up things really quickly. He learned how to repair computers by reading a book.”

Just then the phone rang and Martha went into the bedroom to answer it. After a moment, she shouted, “Honey, it's Clark. Pick up the other phone.”

“Excuse me for a moment. It's our son calling from Metropolis. I'm sure he's worried about us with all the news about the storms around here.”

After the Kents had both left the room, Scott moved closer to his father. “Why don't they think we're weird?”

“I don't know Scott, but I sense an understanding unlike anything I've ever felt from humans before. The Kents are special people.”

 

Martha carried the portable phone into the kitchen to be with her husband, listening to the conversation as she went.

“Dad, are you all right?” Clark said excitedly. “I saw what happened outside the shelter.”

“I'm fine, Clark. But I didn't know you were here.”

“I've been in the area for several hours, helping people and clearing up some of the storm damage, but I really wanted to talk to you guys. When I saw you had visitors, I stayed out of sight. I didn't want to just appear out of a tornado because that would have been a little hard to explain.”

Martha laughed. “Yes, I suppose it would have been. How much did you see, honey?”

“Everything, Mom.”

Martha gazed up into her husband's face and realized again what a close call they'd had. “Where are you now, Clark? I thought the phones were out because of the storm.”

“The long distance lines are down, and some local lines, but I finally found a pay phone that works about fifty miles away. When I…Hold on a second, I'll be right back.”

As the phone dropped, Martha and Jonathan heard squealing tires and a crash, followed by a splash. Next they heard a familiar swishing sound. For several more minutes all they could hear was the wind howling and the hail pounding, until Clark returned to the phone.

“Sorry about that. There's still heavy rain and hail falling out here, and the rain is washing the hail into huge drifts. When a bus swerved to miss one of them, it slid into the river, and I had to pull it out and carry it to higher ground.” Clark thought about his conversation with the man in the barn. “When I was at the farm, I met your visitor. How much do you know about him?”

Jonathan looked at his wife before answering, “Not much, but he's very nice.” The elder Kent thought quickly of the government agent who was pursuing their guests, and of the story they'd told about being captured and studied. He knew his son could be in the same danger. “I'd like you to talk to him. After seeing what he did, you've probably guessed the two of you have some things in common.”

“Yeah, I know. We talked in the barn.”

Realizing she wouldn't be breaking the promise to Paul to not tell anyone about him because Clark already knew the truth, Martha said, “Maybe he could tell you something about your world, about Krypton. He said he's a navigator and mapmaker of the universe.”

“I'd like to talk to him, Mom, but I don't know if I should. He can't find out who I am because it could be dangerous for you and Dad.”

There was a brief pause as none of them quite knew what to say next. This was a fear they'd all lived with for over twenty-five years and having Paul and Scott visit had made it even more real. Suddenly, Jonathan's face brightened. “Clark, we owe Paul a favor. You don't suppose there would be a job for a photographer at the _Planet_?”

“I don't think so, Dad. Why?”

“Paul needs work and he said he's a photojournalist. Working at the _Daily Planet_ would seem like a good place for him.”

Clark paused, deep in thought.

Concerned at the silence on the other end of the phone, Martha asked, “Honey, are you still there?”

“Yeah, Mom. I'm just trying to remember where I've seen your guest before. What's his name again?”

“Paul Forrester.”

“That's it. I knew I recognized him. I've heard people at the _Planet_ say he's quite a rogue. I could certainly believe it too, because I saw him lecture once while I was in college. He was, I don't know, arrogant, cocky, conceited. You say he's a nice guy?”

“Yes, son,” Martha said. “But remember, this Paul Forrester isn't…the original. He's different. You'd like him.”

“Maybe so. I want you to tell me more about him the next time I visit. I should go now, if you're sure you're all right.”

“We're fine, Clark,” Jonathan assured him. “Paul took good care of us.”

“I'll call you guys in the morning when I get back to Metropolis. And I'll come back in a day or so and clean up the mess in the yard. Bye, now. Love you.”

After saying their good-byes and hanging up the phone, the Kents rejoined their guests. “Sorry for abandoning you, but Clark was worried about us,” Martha said.

Smiling with the understanding of a parent, Paul said, “It's not a problem. I know what it's like to be separated from your child.”

Martha raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose you do.”

A few minutes of awkward silence was finally broken by Jonathan. “Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm tired. What do you say we call it a night? We can continue this conversation in the morning.”

Standing to indicate his agreement, Paul said, “That sounds like a good idea to me. Come on, Scott, let's go to bed.”

###    
**Thursday, May 15**  


Clark ran into the _Daily Planet_ conference room and slid into his seat next to Lois just as editor-in-chief, Perry White, entered the room. Clark had gotten home from Kansas less than an hour ago and found a message on his answering machine from Lois about this 7:00 a.m. staff meeting. He'd meant to call his parents again before coming to work, but had to move at super-speed to clean up, dress, and get to the office on time.

“Glad you could join us, Mr. Kent.” Perry gave Clark a half-grin in recognition of his almost-tardiness. “Well, boys and girls, we have a full day ahead of us, which is why I called you in an hour early.” Perry began to pass out the assignments. To Lois Lane; “The Prime Minister of Israel is giving an address to the General Assembly of the United Nations.” To Clark Kent; “The First Lady is visiting several hospitals and then giving a speech here in Metropolis.” To Anna Burns; “The Secretary of the Interior is expected to make a major policy statement at the conference of the Environmental Engineer's Society.”

To Catherine Grant; the society columnist, “Roseanne Arnold is coming to town for a book signing. Even though I couldn't care less, the people would like to know if her divorce is on or off this week.” To Allen Myerson; “There is a concert being given by the rap group, You're Better Than That, to benefit the innocent victims of gang shootings. I see good human interest coverage here, and a chance to say something positive about some of our young people. I want there to be a major emphasis on this.”

Perry took a deep breath and looked directly at Jimmy Olson. “The World Gymnastics Championships start today in Oneonta. I hate to send you out alone, son, but you're going to have to get me some pictures and a story from there. Do you think you're up to it?”

Jimmy felt both pride and a little frustration at being asked this question. He knew he could handle the assignment, even if it was just sports. He only wished the Chief had more confidence in him. “Sure I can, Chief. I'll get you the best first day coverage you've ever had.”

Looking at the eager young man, Perry saw a little of himself as he'd been thirty-plus years earlier. He knew Olson would make a good reporter someday, but he needed to learn the business from the ground up. Perhaps it was still too soon to be sending Olson out on his own, but Perry just didn't have any choice.

After passing out the rest of the assignments, Perry walked to the head of the table. “I have only one more item. Since we're stretched so thin today, all of you won't have immediate access to our photographers. With Johnson off on maternity leave, Krebs and Sevenson out sick, and Edwards and Bushell out in Los Angeles on vacation, we're really shorthanded. Let me know your schedules and what you need, and I'll try to have someone available for you.” He scanned the faces around the room. “Is there anything else?” When no one spoke, Perry said, “That's all for now. Go to work people.”

The sounds of chairs being moved, and people talking suddenly filled the room as the _Daily Planet_ writing staff left to start their day. Lois paused for a moment to confront Clark. “Where were you last night?” she said forcefully. “When you left you said you were going to your apartment because you were tired.”

“I did go home,” Clark answered sheepishly, though honestly.

“After the Chief called me about this meeting, I tried calling you several times. Perry said he tried to reach you too. Finally, about midnight I gave up trying and left the message on the machine.”

“Um, er…um…. When I got home I turned the ringer off on the phone so I could get some sleep without being disturbed. The adrenaline rush after hearing about the tornadoes and talking to Mom left me really exhausted.”

“You know, Clark, it isn't very smart to shut the phone off like that.” Lois raised both her hands in a gesture of exasperation and then let them fall to her sides. “What if there had been some kind of emergency and your parents needed to contact you? What if I'd needed you for something?”

Being unable to tell the truth about where he'd gone, and knowing he'd never win the argument, Clark tilted his head sideways and smiled down at his friend. “You're right, of course. I guess I just wasn't thinking.”

Grabbing her coffee cup from the desk and starting towards the door, Lois turned back to give one final, parting shot. “You're right about that, Farmboy.”

As he watched the young woman leave the room, Clark marveled at her drive and determination, but also the quiet vulnerability that made her so appealing to him. Though she tried to hide it, Lois needed someone. How he wished it was him. But right now, he needed to talk to the Chief about an idea that had come to him during the meeting.

* * * * * * 

Scott awoke with a jerk, the distressing, but all too familiar feeling of disorientation gripping him for an instant before he remembered where he was. He got out of bed slowly so he wouldn't awaken his father, and walked to the window. As he opened the curtains a crack and gazed out onto the freshly washed landscape, a bright shaft of sunlight pierced the room. He saw the previous night's storm had left lots of debris scattered in the yard, but he couldn't see any major damage. Reflecting on some of the stories the Kents had told at dinner about how bad tornadoes can be Scott decided the farm had weathered the storm well.

Closing the curtain, Scott pulled on his pants, quietly left the room and went down the hall to the bathroom. As he stood in front of the mirror, he thought about his foster father, Kent Lockhart. Scott didn't often think of his former life, but the similarity in names with their hosts reminded him of another time and another place. The memories weren't all bad, but even with all the trouble he and his father had, Scott much preferred being with his real father.

Not wanting to disturb his sleeping father, when Scott finished in the bathroom, he went into the kitchen. There he found Martha sitting at the table looking thoughtfully into a cup of coffee. “Hello, Mrs. Kent.”

“Good morning, Scott. It's kind of early for a young man to be out of bed, isn't it? Didn't you sleep well?”

Scott was a little surprised when he looked at the clock and saw it was only 6:15. “I slept fine. The bed was very comfortable.” Scott pulled out a chair and joined her at the table. He tilted his head towards the bedroom. “Your son must be quite an athlete. He's got trophies and ribbons all over his room.”

Martha smiled broadly, thinking of her son's school years. _He always had to control himself, but because he so enjoyed being like the other boys, sports had been a great pleasure to him_. “Clark seemed to be good at whatever sport he tried. He was usually above average, sometimes winning awards, but always willing to try anything. Do you go out for sports, Scott?”

Remembering his one experience with team sports on the San Leon track team, Scott became subdued. “I like track, but I don't have much of a chance to participate since we're on the road a lot and have to stay low profile.” Scott paused for a moment, and said even more quietly, “I'm good at running.”

The irony in that answer didn't escape Martha. “It must be hard for you and your father to never have a place to call home. Are you sure that government man—George Fox, wasn't it—really wants to capture you?”

With a look of conviction in his eyes, Scott said firmly, “Fox will stop at nothing to put my father and me in a cage. It's so unfair.” His voice rose sharply. “We're not a threat to anyone. We're just…different.” Scott's lower lip quivered ever so slightly. It wasn't often he could talk about his feelings with anyone except his father. But somehow, Scott knew he could trust this woman.

Martha looked into Scott's eyes, and saw Clark. The memories of raising a child with unusual talents came back to her in a flood. She quietly asked, “It isn't easy being different, is it?”

Scott blinked back tears and shook his head. “No.” He paused for a brief instant, and then said in a rush, “But I didn't ask for this!”

Since she'd had a very similar conversation with her own son many years ago, Martha understood some of the problems and pressures on this child of two worlds. “Scott, don't think of yourself as a victim. No one gets to choose who they are. Just remember, you're special, unlike anyone else on this planet.”

“My father tells me that,” Scott said, as he stared out the window above the sink, “but it doesn't make it any easier.” When he turned back to Martha, Scott saw a strange, almost all-knowing expression on her face. He felt completely at ease when he saw her look of encouragement, so shared some of his innermost thoughts. “Before Dad came back three years ago, I always felt different, but in ways I didn't understand. Now that I'm learning about myself, some of the strangeness I felt before is beginning to make sense, but I still don't understand it all.”

“Maybe, you never will. But I think as long as your father is here to help you, you'll continue to grow and learn all kinds of things about your unique heritage.” With a twinge of sadness, Martha thought of the mysteries still surrounding Clark. They knew he was from the planet Krypton, but very little else.

“Sometimes I'd rather not be so 'unique'. Maybe then I could have a normal life and not have to move around all the time.”

Thinking of how lucky they'd been for so many years that no one had found out about Clark, Martha felt a little guilt at their good fortune. _If there had been a 'Fox' around when we found Clark, our lives could have been very different. The government men who came after the spacecraft landed never dreamed its passenger was the cute baby boy in my arms_. She put her hand on Scott's arm and gave it a light squeeze. “Clark, er…Scott, normal for you will never be the same as it is for other young men. You have to use the gifts you've been given in the best way you can. Use them for good. Use them to help people.”

Scott knew she was right. He did feel a lot of pride and joy while working with his dad on learning to use the sphere. His developing skills of healing and empathy were often frightening, but the side of his genetics that came from his father was becoming more familiar every day. Placing his other hand on top of Martha's, he got an immediate confirmation of one of his abilities. She understood, completely, absolutely, without question what he was feeling.

“Mrs. Kent, I wish my foster parents had understood me like you do. I can tell you know what it's like to be different, and I don't know why, but I think you've had this talk before.”

Somewhat taken aback at this turn of the conversation, Martha slowly pulled away from Scott so as not to alarm him. She had to remember this young man was not quite human and she really didn't know much about his abilities. He wasn't Clark. She laughed nervously. “Well, not exactly, but every mother has to encourage her children at some point in their lives. It's just part of being a parent.” Martha pushed back from the table and said, “I think it's time to fix breakfast. It's almost seven and Jonathan will be in from doing the chores anytime now. Why don't you go get your father out of bed?”

* * * * * * 

Jadesz Ryialdi finished writing a long letter to his fiancee back home and placed it in an envelope. He'd been on tour with the Greek gymnastics team for several months and was now in Oneonta, New York to compete in the World Championships. Even though she understood his commitment to gymnastics, the long separations were difficult and he missed her tremendously. Grabbing his wallet, he started to the gift shop to buy stamps.

With his future bride still in his thoughts, Jadesz didn't see the two Chinese girls and their coach coming around the corner until it was too late to avoid a collision and the four of them ended up sprawled on the floor. The two girls sat up, looked at the gangly young man and began to giggle. They pointed and chattered in Chinese.

Jadesz didn't know their language, so he tried English hoping this almost universal language would allow him to communicate. “I'm sorry I wasn't watching where I was going. May I help you?” After scrambling to his feet, he offered his hand to the girls.

The girl's coach wasn't amused by the mishap. Speaking sharply in Chinese, he said, “Get up, quickly! You've not traveled half-way around the world to be distracted by anything, least of all by a young man. Hurry!” He had reports to mail to the Committee back home, and he'd arranged extra practice time for his girls. He pushed them towards the hotel lobby.

Jadesz shook his head and walked slowly down the hall.

Arnold and Carol Keleani saw the accident and rushed up the hall to see if anyone was hurt. Before they got to the site of the mishap, the people had disentangled themselves and left. “Well, Carol, I guess that's one crisis I won't have to mediate. What do you say we get the stamps for these letters and then some breakfast before things start popping around here?”

This husband and wife team worked for the International Gymnastics Committee helping to arrange and run the events. In the past twenty years the sport and competitors had changed a lot, but the young people were still a pleasure to them. The only regret Carol and Arnold had was spending so much time away from their aging parents and their home in Hawaii.

Down the hall from this happy scene, one of those young people was not so cheerful. Sandy Porter wiped the tears from her eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The phone call from her mother at 5 A.M. hadn't been a complete surprise, but it still came as a shock. However, now it was almost time for her practice session to begin and she had to pull herself together. As the reigning US champion on the balance beam, Sandy knew she had to perform for her country, for herself, but mostly for her little sister. Angie had lost her battle with the cancer this morning. Her final words to their mother had been, “Tell Sandy to win one for me.”

Splashing some water on her face, Sandy grabbed the letters she'd written the previous night and headed to the gift shop to buy stamps.

* * * * * * 

Scott entered the bedroom where his father lay sleeping. As he listened to his slow breathing, and watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, he thought about this man he'd come to love so much in such a short time. Scott knew inside the human body of Paul Forrester was a being from the stars. Though at one time that thought had frightened him, now it comforted him. It gave him a reason for some of the differences he felt in himself.

Scott realized that in his natural state his father would not need sleep, but the human form did need rest. He'd expended a lot of energy last night while healing Jonathan and this sleep was recharging his batteries, so to speak. But now, even Scott thought he'd had enough. He grabbed his father's foot and shouted, “Hey, lazy bones wake up!”

When he felt the pull on his foot, Paul slowly opened his eyes and stretched his arms above his head. He yawned and said, “Hello, Scott. What time is it? The sun is already shining brightly.”

“It's time for you to get out of bed. Everyone else is ready for breakfast.” Pulling the covers off his father, he had to jump to miss being tackled as Paul leaped from the bed. “Arggggh. You sure can move in a hurry when you want.”

“Of course, I'm an alien. I have these powers.”

Father and son laughed together at their private joke. “Well, see if you can keep up that speed and get to the kitchen. I'm going to help Mrs. Kent.” He grinned broadly as he left his father.

It didn't take Paul long to get ready and he came into the kitchen at about the same time as Jonathan. “I see you've already been out working,” Paul said, as he watched his host wipe the mud off his shoes and take off his jacket. “We'd like to help to thank you for your hospitality.”

Jonathan saw Scott helping his wife make pancakes, and looked into the sincere face of this man offering help on the farm, and marveled at the goodness in these strangers from afar. _Maybe we need more such visitors_ , he thought. _So many humans nowadays only want to take, and never want to help do anything_. “Well, I tell you, after breakfast there will be plenty for all of us to do. That storm left all kinds of junk in the yard and the fields. There's even half of a mobile home out in the middle of the corn.”

Paul tried to picture the sight. “Half of a mobile home? In the corn? How is that possible?”

Jonathan laughed. “A twister can do all kinds of strange things. We're just lucky we didn't get a direct hit or we'd have more than a little debris to clean up.”

Coming into the dining area with a plate of eggs and bacon, Martha met her husband's eyes. “We're lucky in other ways, too.” She turned to face Paul and said, “Even though I said this last night, it's worth repeating. I'll never forget what you did for us during the storm. As far as I'm concerned, you don't owe anything. You're our guests for as long as you want to stay.”

Scott saw his father blushing as he came into the room with a plate of pancakes. “Well, my dad and I would still like to help. But right now, let's eat. I'm starved!”

The adults laughed at the enthusiasm of the teenager for food as they all sat at the table. Taking a big bite of his pancakes, Jonathan looked at his wife. “Hey, these are great. Did you do something different, honey?”

Martha turned to Scott. “Well, in a way, I guess I did. I let Scott make them.”

“Where'd you learn to make these, son?” Jonathan asked.

Somewhat embarrassed, Scott looked down at his plate, then at Jonathan. “My grandmother Stella taught me.”

“Is the recipe a secret?” Jonathan asked. “I'd sure like to have these again.”

At a look of encouragement from his father, Scott said, “They're easy, really. Just flour, eggs, milk and shortening. But the special ingredient, that makes them so good, is the corn meal.”

“Well, I think I can make those,” Martha said. “Now, tell us more about this grandmother of yours.”

* * * * * * 

Knocking at the open door of his editor's office, Clark said, “Chief, can I see you for a minute?”

“What is it, Kent? Don't you like your assignment?”

“No, I mean yes, I mean, I'm not here about that. The assignment is fine. I want to talk to you about getting some additional help while we're short-handed.”

Perry looked at the young man standing in front of his desk. He'd almost let this one get away when he'd first interviewed. What a mistake that would have been. Clark Kent had shown himself more than once to be a team player and a major asset to the _Daily Planet_. “Well, what is it, son? We're all busy today. Anything to take some of the load off will be a welcome idea.”

“I know someone who's looking for a job and…”

Perry frowned. “Now, Kent, we're almost in a crisis. We don't have time to train someone.”

“But, Mr. White, you wouldn't have to train him. He's worked for newspapers and magazines before.” Clark remembered what his mother had said about their guest's extensive traveling and said, “I think he would be a valuable, temporary, addition to the staff while we're short-handed.”

“Well, who is this miracle solution to all my problems?”

Clark took a deep breath. “Paul Forrester.”

“Forrester! You're just funnin' with me, aren't you, son? I've met Paul Forrester and he's not one to take on something unless it's flashy and offers him a chance to make a name for himself. Besides, he's been very elusive for the last few years, ever since that helicopter crash out in the Pacific Northwest.”

“No, Chief, I'm serious. I think Paul Forrester could help us out and I know where to find him.” Clark folded his arms over his chest, waiting for a reply.

“Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to talk to him. I have heard he's changed a lot. At the last editor's convention I attended, I talked to some people who had worked with him recently, and all of them say he's a changed man. One guy even said he acted so different from before that it was like he'd been taken over by an alien.”

Clark suppressed the urge to laugh. “Then it will be okay if I have him call you?”

“No.”

Clark's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “But I thought…”

“I don't want a phone call. It will help things out if we can get Forrester on board, but I don't want empty promises. If the man is serious about working for the _Planet_ , he'll come here. Have Forrester in this office as soon as possible.”

“I'll get right on it, Mr. White.” As he left his editor's office, Clark hoped the long distance phone lines to Smallville were back in service. Otherwise, he'd have to disappear for a while to talk to his parents.

* * * * * * 

Scott shook his head. “That isn't possible, is it?”

Jonathan laughed. “It most certainly is. I've seen live chickens without any feathers, straws driven into trees like nails, even a brick wall punctured by a board.”

“But how can a wind do that?”

The phone rang interrupting Jonathan's answer. “Excuse me a minute while I get that.” He stepped to the counter and picked up the phone. “Hello.”

Martha watched her husband's face to see if she could get an idea of who was calling so early. He showed little reaction to the call and didn't even say much except uh-huh several times. When he hung up the receiver and started back to the table she asked, “Who was it, honey?”

“It was Clark. He was in a hurry and couldn't talk long, but he had an offer for Paul.” Jonathan looked directly at Paul and said, “Perry White, editor of the _Daily Planet_ , will hire you, but you have to get to Metropolis as soon as possible. Are you interested?”

“Metropolis?” Paul questioned. “Where's that?”

“It's on the east coast, in New York,” Martha explained. “I know you said you wanted to avoid large cities, so maybe the job won't appeal to you, but we asked Clark last night if there might be work for you at the _Planet_.” She glanced at her husband. “We figured there was no harm in asking.”

Paul thought for a moment, and then turned to his son. “What do you think, Scott? Do we want to stay in Kansas or try out this big city?”

Feeling Fox would find them no matter where they went, Scott didn't believe it really made any difference. He stared dejectedly at his plate and mumbled, “Metropolis sounds fine to me. We've never been there.”

“That's right, Scott, so we've never looked for your mother there. Maybe we'll get lucky.” Paul put his hand on Scott's shoulder, and their eyes met for a brief moment.

Scott didn't want to think about leaving the Kents so soon, even though he knew this was only another temporary stop. Pushing his father's hand off his shoulder Scott said, “I'll go pack.”

A stab of pain hit Paul as he watched his son walk down the hall. _Someday we'll have a home, Scott_ , he thought to himself. _Someday we'll have a place like this, where you can belong_.

When Scott disappeared from view, Paul turned to the Kents. “Tell your son I'll take the job. How do we get to Metropolis?”

* * * * * * 

First in English, then in other languages, they announced: “Contestants, please leave the apparatus. Practice time is over. The competition will begin in thirty minutes.”

Sandy Porter finished her dismount from the balance beam, and walked over to her coach. “I just can't seem to land the double back roll. I've got to have that move if I'm going to win.”

Contemplating the young woman standing in front of him, Joe Mann thought about her exceptional skill and drive. For thirteen of her sixteen years, she'd committed herself almost exclusively to her sport. Joe knew about her sister's death and he was amazed how focused Sandy was at a time like this. “When you start into the roll, you're leaning too far to the left. I think you're just tired and need to get some rest. Why don't you go to your room now, get some sleep, and we'll work on it again this afternoon.”

“Okay. Call me when it's time to come back.” Sandy hugged her coach, then walked slowly from the arena and returned to her hotel room. She took a shower and got ready for bed but wasn't quite ready for sleep. She turned on the television and went channel surfing with the remote control.

After only a few minutes, Sandy started talking aloud to herself, “Gee, this stuff is terrible. How can people watch it? I always thought I was missing something by not having time to see television programs, but I think I was wrong.” She stopped briefly on a car chase, a game show, a news broadcast, a talk show, and then a steamy love scene. She had just about decided to turn the set off and try to sleep when something different caught her eye.

The announcer was describing a square, white appliance that almost filled the screen. “…automatic bread and dough maker. It has a choice of six bread settings, a dough cycle and your choice of light, medium, or dark crust. This breadmaker comes with an instructional video and a 70 page recipe book. As an added bonus if you order today, we'll include three boxes of the E-Z Baker bread mix. All this can be yours for the low bargain price of $159.99 or four easy payments of $39.99 for credit card customers only. Call 1-800-555-5776 and ask for item number J121. For fastest service, have your credit card ready, or send check or money order to the address on your screen. Sorry, no COD's. This is LSN, the Luthor Shopping Network, bringing you twenty-four hours of home buying opportunities. Stay tuned. We'll be right back.”

Intrigued, Sandy paused. She'd heard of shopping channels but hadn't ever seen one. As she waited for the commercials to finish, she thought about the breadmaker. Her mother liked to bake, but didn't often have time because of the pressures of raising two daughters alone. Sandy jumped from the bed, grabbed her billfold and pulled out the credit card her mother had given last year when she first started traveling alone to the gymnastic events. Waiting for the program to return so she could get the phone number, Sandy felt pleased with her decision.

 

Jadesz Ryialdi completed three final revolutions on the rings then nailed his dismount solidly. Feeling on top of the world, he ran to the sidelines, hugged his coach, his teammates, and a few strangers. Not caring who heard, he shouted at the top of his voice, “I'm going to win this competition! I'm going to be the world champion!”

The Greek team coach smiled at the enthusiasm of his young protégé and slapped him on the back. “I'm sure you will be, if you keep that consistency in your routine. Now, go get some rest and be back here in three hours. You're in the first group to compete.”

Jadesz gave his coach one final hug and sprinted from the arena. He slowed to a walk as he approached the hotel and decided he didn't really want to be alone. He entered the brightly lit coffee shop and found it almost empty at mid-morning.

After the waitress brought him the pineapple juice he'd ordered and charged it to his room, Jadesz walked to the lounge at the far end of the restaurant. As his eyes partially adjusted to the darker room, he realized its sole lighting was coming from the large TV that completely covered one wall. The furnishings consisted of soft chairs, a few small tables, and a large overstuffed sofa.

Jadesz took a seat at one end of the sofa and began to watch the image on the television. A pretty young woman held up a large, sparkling ring as an unseen announcer intoned, “This diamond and ruby ring is set in an 18 carat gold band and is perfect for gift giving, or for treating yourself. At only $297.50 or four easy payments of $74.50 for credit card customers only, this is a real bargain. Call 1-800-555-5776 and ask for item number T443. For fastest…”

“That's quite a stone, isn't it?”

The unseen voice coming out of the dark startled Jadesz. He jumped, spilling the juice in his lap, on the sofa, and on the carpet. Looking towards the direction from which the voice had come, he dimly made out a dark-haired woman sitting near the other end of the sofa.

Carol Keleani grabbed some napkins and walked quickly to Jadesz. As she sat down beside him she said, “Oh, I'm sorry. It was thoughtless of me to speak when you didn't know I was even here.” She handed him some of the napkins and they both worked at soaking up the spilled juice. “I'm sorry I startled you.”

Embarrassed by the mess he'd made, Jadesz said, “That's okay. You didn't mean to do it. It's just so dark I didn't realize there was anyone else here.”

“That's my fault,” Carol laughed. “I like to watch television without lights, so I turned them all off. Since I was alone in here, I didn't think it would hurt. If you want them on, the switch is right there beside you.”

“No, the dark is fine.” He smiled at the black-haired, middle-aged woman. “But right now, I think I'll go find a place to wash off this pineapple juice. It doesn't do me much good in my lap.”

“Oh, gee. That's another thing I must apologize for doing. It's a shame you didn't get to finish your drink. Let me buy you another one.”

“That's not necessary. I really didn't need it anyway. I'll come back shortly. Will you be here?”

“Certainly! I've been in the lounge watching this shopping channel for about an hour. After seeing things on the big screen TV I don't want to go back to my room because everything looks so much better here.”

As he stood, Jadesz again looked at the flickering image of the model who was now holding a camera. “Our next item is the Pentax IQ zoom 90-WR 35mm camera. This is a weather-resistant AF camera with 38-90 zoom range, a detachable infrared remote control, and a red eye reduction zoom flash. At only $219.97, or four easy payments of $54.99 for credit card customers only, it's a bargain you can't afford to pass up. Call 1-800-555-5776 and ask for item number C7640. For….

“I've got to have that,” Jadesz said, as he kept his eyes on the screen. “It will be the perfect thing to take along on our honeymoon next month.” He sat down again, completely forgetting the wet stickiness on his hands and his pants. He turned to face Carol, and was surprised to discover she was no longer beside him. With his vision now accustomed to the dark in the room, he soon located her on the phone at the other end of the sofa. As the announcer began his closing remarks, he heard Carol say, “…I want to order the diamond and ruby ring, item number T443 and also the camera, item C7640. My credit card number is…”

With a glance at the television, Jadesz left the lounge at a run and squinted in the bright light of the outer room. Apologizing as he almost knocked over a waitress, he headed straight for his room, retrieved his wallet from the wall safe, and rushed back to the lounge. He'd use his credit card to order the camera and also get the ring as a surprise for his fiancee.

* * * * * * 

With the resiliency of youth, Scott put his earlier sadness about having to leave the Kents behind him, and immersed himself in the task of cleaning up the storm damage. He was picking up blown down limbs when he pointed at a tree and yelled, “Hey, Dad, look at this. Isn't it weird?”

Paul walked over to his son and examined the tree closely. It stood about thirty feet high and had a trunk about three feet across. “Yes, it is weird. Why would there be a room in the limbs of the tree?”

“Huh? Oh, you mean the tree-house. That's not weird.”

“A tree-house? Do people live in trees?”

“No, Dad. Kids build them to play in. I had one in Seattle. This is what I'm talking about.” Scott pointed to an almost symmetrical zigzag split that started at the top of the crotch and extended all the way to the ground.

Still unsure he understood about tree-houses, Paul looked at the trunk. “What do you suppose caused that?”

Scott shrugged. “I don't know; the tornado I guess.”

Paul snapped several pictures of the tree, and then asked, “Could a wind storm really do that?”

Coming up behind his guests and standing between them, Jonathan put his hands on both their shoulders and laughed, “No, not this time. A twister can do some pretty strange things, but this tree was struck by lightning. See how it's scorched in the crotch?” As Paul and Scott nodded, Jonathan continued, “It's a miracle it didn't burn, but I suppose there was so much rain and hail, any fire that started was put out almost immediately.”

Paul touched the tree and shook his head. “It seems there is always something new to learn. Last night you said tornadoes were the most violent storms known to man. After seeing this and all the things thrown around the yard, I can believe it.”

“There are a lot of people in the world who will never see a tornado, but here in Kansas and a lot of the central part of the country they're common. However, most of the time they aren't as destructive as the ones we had yesterday.”

Paul looked at his son. “I'm glad we got to experience it and that I've been able to take pictures of these strange things, but I don't think we want to see another one.”

“Well, when you live here all your life, you learn to respect them, and stay out of their way. But this is home to a lot of people, and most wouldn't move away just because of the storms.”

Jonathan dropped his hands from Paul's and Scott's shoulders. “I want to thank you guys for helping Martha and me clean up this mess. It would have taken us twice as long to get things done without the extra hands.”

As the three of them walked across the yard, Paul pointed at the corn field. “Do you want me to move the mobile home out there?”

Knowing Clark would take care of it for him at his next visit, Jonathan said, “No, I don't think we can do anything with it. It's too heavy.”

“I can move it,” Paul said, pulling the sphere from his pocket and holding it up, “with this.”

Jonathan looked from father to son, remembering again the special nature of these people. “Yes, I suppose you can. But really, it isn't necessary.”

“Maybe so, but I'd like to help. Since we're the only ones out here for miles, no one will see me. Some of the little corn plants under it might survive if we move it off from them right away.”

 _This man obviously doesn't know anything about farming_ , Jonathan thought to himself. “The corn is done for. That hail beat it into the ground.”

“I can do something about that too,” Paul stated with conviction.

Not quite understanding what Paul meant, Jonathan said, “Okay, go ahead. If you'll move the mobile home over to that empty field it will be out of the way and I'll get a truck in later to haul it to the dump.”

Paul pulled the sphere from his pocket and connected with it. The only sounds were the hum of the sphere, and the creaking of the twisted metal as he directed the blue energy beam at the bottom of the mobile home and lifted it about a foot from the ground. He first turned, and then walked slowly forward, carrying his burden in front of him. When he reached the empty field, Paul gently lowered the useless pile of scrap metal.

Paul moved back across the yard and surrounded the damaged tree with the blue light from the sphere. With a few pops and cracks, the trunk was again whole.

Jonathan watched in amazement as Paul next directed the blue light from the sphere into the corn field. Row by row, he saw the little corn plants lift their heads upright into the sunlight. Shaking his head, he thought to himself, _even my son couldn't have done anything to save that crop. This man has some amazing talents_. Jonathan looked back and forth between the field and Paul's face. Finally, he said, “That was quite something you just did.” He grinned broadly and said, “But I don't know how I'll ever explain to my neighbors why my corn didn't suffer any hail damage.”

Martha walked up behind them just as Paul extinguished the sphere. “It seems I missed all the excitement.”

“Not excitement, just some molecular and cellular regeneration.” Paul grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “Plants are a whole lot easier than animals, or people.” All joined together sharing Paul's hearty laugh.

Martha finally caught her breath. “We sure do appreciate all the help you've given us, but now, it's time for you guys to get washed up. Your flight leaves from Wichita in just over three hours and that's eighty miles away. We have to get on the road if we're going to make it.”

“Are we going to eat first?” Scott asked.

Remembering her own son's voracious appetite when he was a teenager, Martha put on a straight face and said, “No, we don't have time.”

As the boy's face fell, the corners of her own mouth crept up. Unable to keep up the pretense any longer, Martha burst into laughter. “Don't worry, Scott, I've packed sandwiches and sodas for us to eat in the car along the way. We won't let you starve!”

Jonathan and Martha each put one of their arms across Scott's shoulders. Hugging him between them, they began walking toward the house. Paul followed along behind, smiling at these people who'd taken them in like family.

* * * * * * 

Jimmy threw the room key on the dresser, dropped his bags behind the door and flopped onto his back on the bed. He still couldn't believe the Chief had sent him to cover a story. In the hours after the staff meeting he'd gotten his travel advance, packed some clothes, picked up a company car, and driven the 125 miles to Oneonta. Now, it was time to go to work, but he was tired.

He lifted his head slightly so he could see the television and saw the red numbers on the digital clock advance to 2:02 p.m. Slowly rolling onto his side, he let his legs fall off the edge of the bed, then rose to a sitting position. “Well, Olson, you wanted this chance. Now, get a move on. The competition started four hours ago and staying in the hotel room isn't getting any pictures or interviews.” He grabbed his camera, tape recorder, and the room key and headed to the lobby.

After asking directions to the arena at the hotel desk, Jimmy went into the coffee shop. He knew if he was going to stay alert during the next three hours of events, he'd need coffee. While waiting for the waitress to return with his order, he looked at his surroundings. The only people in the place were in the lounge at the end of the room.

Paying for his coffee, Jimmy started to leave when a shout from the lounge caught his attention. With the curiosity of a reporter, he headed towards the back of the restaurant. When he entered the dark room, he saw about a dozen people of all nationalities and ages watching a home shopping channel on a large screen television. An argument between two men and three women drew his attention to the far side of the room.

“I was here first! It's mine!” yelled the dark-haired, middle-aged woman, clutching the phone to her chest.

“Yeah, that's right. You've been hogging it for hours. Why do you always have to be the first to place an order?” The short, thin, young man grabbed at the phone.

As the woman raised it above her head to keep it out of his reach, she lost it to a man standing behind her. “Got it!”

Jimmy watched the scuffle with increasing interest. Here were five adults—three of whom he could see were athletes because of their uniforms—fighting over a phone. He made his way past several others, some of whom were also on phones, until he reached the altercation. “Hold on there, people. What seems to be the problem?”

A slender young woman glared at Jimmy. “Go find your own phone.”

“Whoa, there,” Jimmy said, ducking as she tried to push him away. “I don't want the phone. I just want to know what's going on?” The woman had an accent, and wore a uniform with the Italian flag on the arm.

“She won't let anyone use this phone to order.”

Jimmy and the woman were pushed to the floor as the argument became more physical. He grimaced as the coffee spilled in his lap and onto the floor. Jimmy shouted to be heard above the continuing din. “Order what?”

“The single micro-cassette answering machine with time/day stamp for only $69.97.”

“Huh?”

“The single…”

“I heard you.” Jimmy got up and helped the woman stand. “But why is that so important?”

“I…I don't know. It just is.”

Jimmy saw complete bewilderment in the woman's face. He raised his hands then waded into the middle of the group. “People,” he shouted, “people, can't we reach a compromise?”

“What?” yelled the young man who wore a costume with the Greek flag on the shoulder.

Still shouting, Jimmy asked, “Have any of you ever heard of a designated driver?” Five pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. Jimmy continued quickly in order to take advantage of the sudden quiet that followed such an unexpected question. “If all of you want this—whatever it is—why not designate one person to make the call and order for all of you?” Seeing the five of them looking at each other, he knew they were at least thinking about his suggestion. “Well?”

The middle-aged woman finally broke the silence. “That makes a lot of sense. I don't know why I didn't think of it. Okay, young man, since you came up with the idea, you can be the one to place the orders.” She grabbed the phone from the Greek man and extended it towards Jimmy.

Jimmy raised both hands in front of him to refuse the phone. “No, not me, I've got to get to the arena. You guys work it out.” He backed away from the group and threaded his way through several pairs of legs. He stopped at the door and listened to the television for a moment wondering what all these people saw there.

A gas grill was on the screen and the announcer was saying, “…and a 20 pound LP tank is included. Call 1-800-555-5776 and ask for item number G454. For fastest service, have your credit card ready, or send check or money order to the address on your screen. Sorry, no COD's.” Shaking his head in disbelief, Jimmy turned and left the room as the announcer finished his pitch, “This is LSN, the Luthor Shopping Network….”

* * * * * * 

George Fox stared at the newspapers covering his desk, shook his head, and then placed it in his hands. “How could I have been so blind?” he asked himself aloud. Picking up the top paper, he continued to berate himself, “Wylie was reading this on the plane coming back from Denver. The _New York Daily Star_ is not a rag.” He picked up the next few papers in the pile and read aloud, “'Mysterious Phenomena in Space' from the _London Voice_ , 'C'Est Manifique' or 'It's Magnificent' from the _Paris Bulletin_ , 'Superman to the Rescue' from the _Daily Planet_.” Fox tossed the papers back onto his desk. “These are not tabloids, and neither is the _Metropolis Star_ , the _Washington Post, USA Today_ , nor any of the rest of these.”

Fox realized that on more than one occasion during the last few months, Wylie had tried to show him these papers. Again shaking his head, he mumbled, “When Wylie told me they weren't related to Forrester, I wouldn't listen. I wouldn't even look at them.” He punched the button on the intercom and yelled, “Wylie, get in here!”

Fox looked up when his assistant entered the office. “What do we know about this, Superman?” Sweeping his hand through the air above his desk, he continued, “Surely there is more information than what is here. When I asked you to bring me data, all you brought were these newspapers and magazines. Is there anything in official channels?”

Pleased he'd finally gotten his boss to pay attention to something he felt important, Wylie spoke with authority. “Since I first started following this story a few months ago, I've learned very little about Superman other than what is in the newspapers. The FBI has no existing operations concerning Superman. Most of the government agencies either ignore him, or work with him. They don't seem to think he's a threat.”

“Nonsense! An alien presence is always a danger. I've known that for almost twenty years.”

“Yes, I know, sir. I did find mention in one report that a group called Bureau 39 is investigating Superman. They've been collecting evidence on UFO's, and reports of aliens since the Project Blue Book team was dissolved in 1969.”

“Bureau 39?” Fox questioned. He tilted his head sideways, “I don't think I've ever heard of them.”

Wylie suppressed a smile as he realized he knew something his boss didn't. “It's a ghost agency. I had to look into almost thirty year-old records to even find a brief mention of the original formation of the group. They are top, top secret.”

Fox pursed his lips and frowned. Steepling his hands under his nose, he stared down at the papers. He searched his memory for the meaning of ghost agency. 'A group that does not officially exist, but which continues to receive funds because someone very high in the government believes their work is important.'

Looking up, Fox asked, “I don't suppose there's any way for us to get information about this Superman from their files, is there?”

“No. I tried.”

“Well, I guess that means we'll just have to go to Metropolis and find out what we can on our own. Go arrange for the flight.”

As his assistant left the office, Fox contemplated his next move. He knew government was full of waste and duplication of effort, but he often wished that at least the groups involved with national security could share information. Talking to himself again, he said, “George, you've worked for the government long enough to know that will never happen. Everybody has to have their own little pet project to channel funds into their district.”

Fox stood and stretched, then stared at the map on his wall that contained the pins marking the alien sightings. Picking up his coffee cup, he walked to the pot and poured the steaming black liquid. As he took a drink, his eyes fell on the photographs of the alien and his son pinned to the bottom of the map, then down onto the pictures of Superman on his desk. A terrible vision appeared in his mind and he gasped, almost dropping his coffee. “If these two aliens join forces, there will be even more danger than there is now. I've got to make sure that doesn't happen.”

Fox walked back to his desk and punched the intercom button again, “Wylie, what's taking so long? We have to get to Metropolis, now!”

* * * * * * 

Paul gripped the arms of his seat as the plane started its descent into Metropolis International Airport. He and the Kents had discussed various modes of transportation, but decided only flying would get Scott and him here quickly enough to satisfy Perry White. The five-hour flight had been uneventful, but Paul was relieved it would soon be over. During the hour layover in Chicago, Paul had tried to call Liz, but she hadn't been home.

Thinking back to the phone call he'd made right after breakfast this morning, Paul sighed. _I'm glad I've been sending money to Liz whenever I can, since our life on the run makes it impossible to keep a normal bank account. At least this way we're not taking complete advantage of her by asking for favors. Even though I won't ever be able to repay her for all the help she gives us, at least I earned some of the money for the plane fare_.

Paul looked out the window, and pictured Martha and Jonathan as he'd last seen them, waving good-bye at the airport. It hadn't taken Liz long to get them tickets from Wichita under the names of Sam and Joe Smith. Because he knew the Kents were keeping a big secret of some kind, Paul wanted to make it difficult for Fox to trace them back to the Kansas, if he should find them working in Metropolis with their son.

“Are you all right, Dad?” Scott grinned broadly while looking first at his father's white knuckles, then at his grim face.

“Yes.” Paul tried a weak smile. “This is getting easier, but I still don't like this kind of flying.” Just then a solid bump jarred the plane. “Wheels? Right?”

“Right, Dad.” Scott gave his father a reassuring smile. “We'll be on the ground in a few minutes.”

“Good. I still like my own flying better.” The plane touched down with an almost imperceptible bounce and Paul finally relaxed.

As they taxied to the terminal, Scott asked, “What now?”

“We're supposed to meet Clark Kent. Martha left a message at the newspaper telling him we were arriving at 7:00 p.m. local time.” Paul looked at his watch and said, “We're right on-time, so he should be here.”

“Do you think we'll recognize him? We can't just go with the first stranger who asks for Paul Forrester.”

Understanding his son's concerns, Paul answered, “Martha told me Clark has seen Paul Forrester, so he'll recognize me, and we saw enough pictures of him at the house so we shouldn't have any trouble knowing who he is.”

 

Clark sat waiting at the gate for the arrival of the plane, watching a large group of people. Many carried “Welcome home” signs, and most were standing in male-female pairs. His instincts told him this was a group of parents waiting for their children to return from a tour of some kind. He decided to remain seated behind this group because they started getting boisterous when they saw the plane taxiing to the terminal.

Clark pulled down his glasses slightly and used his x-ray vision to look through the crowd at each passenger as they came down the ramp. When Paul Forrester stepped through the door, Clark saw him turn his head slowly from side to side, then focus directly on his position behind the surging mass of parents and children greeting each other with great abandon. It was the same thing he'd seen him do in Kansas outside the barn. Fascinated, Clark watched this man make his way straight through the crowd until he was standing directly in front of him.

Quickly getting to his feet, Clark extended his hand. “Hello, Mr. Forrester. I'm Clark Kent. Welcome to Metropolis and the _Daily Planet_.”

Reaching out to take the offered hand, Paul said, “Please, call me Paul. It's good to see you again, Mr. Kent.”

Taken aback, Clark stammered, “Uh-uh, what do you mean? We've never met.”

Frowning, and still holding the man's hand, Paul said, “Yes, we have, last night in your parent's barn.”

“How…? How…?”

Paul sensed Clark's uneasiness and released his hand, but continued to gaze directly into his eyes. “You just feel…different from the other people I've met on this planet. I felt it the first time last night, and I felt it again as soon as I walked off the plane.”

“You can 'feel' people?”

“Well, it's hard to explain, but feel is the best word I've found to describe it. I…”

“Hey, Dad, do you think we really should be talking about this now?” Scott was looking around at the thinning crowd and knew they would soon be standing alone in an empty terminal.

“No, I suppose we shouldn't,” Paul agreed, as he put his arm around his son's shoulders. Looking first at Scott, then Clark, Paul said, “Mr. Kent, this is my son, Scott.”

Scott reached out to take the offered hand and felt a strange tingling. He hadn't understood everything that had just happened, but realized there was more to this man standing here than just a farm boy from Kansas. He'd have to ask his father about it later. “What do we do now?”

Clark recovered quickly from the shock of being identified as Superman and said, “Please, my name is Clark. My grandfather was Mr. Kent.” He released Scott's hand, and looked at Paul. “You'll stay with me tonight.” He raised one eyebrow and smiled. “My parents were right we have a lot to talk about.”

* * * * * * 

Perry White picked up the phone. “Hello.”

“Chief, it's Jimmy.”

Hearing panic in the young man's voice, Perry asked, “Olson! What's wrong? What time is it?”

Jimmy spoke in a rush. “It's 8:25. Sorry to call you at home, but something weird is going on here.”

“Now, son, calm down. What do you mean, 'weird'?”

Taking a deep breath, Jimmy continued at a more normal pace. “I've been talking to coaches, athletes, and gymnastic association officials for the last six hours. People just aren't acting normal.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“Well, the Greek men's coach became absolutely livid when his star performer on the rings didn't show up for his competition. The girls on the Chinese vault team missed their event because their coach never called them. Several athletes didn't show for late practice sessions. A security guard at the main gate, and an official who checks the athletes' credentials didn't report for work. Half of both the Italian and Swedish men's floor exercise teams never made it to the arena. The French women's coach…”

“All right son, I get the picture. It does sound like there are more people missing events than you would expect, but that doesn't mean there's something wrong.”

“Chief, it's not just people not showing up at the arena that seems wrong. When I first got here I found a group of athletes and others in a heated argument over a phone.”

Perry laughed. “People argue all the time. That doesn't make it weird.”

Jimmy's voice rose with passion. “But, Chief, doesn't it seem a little strange for people who've come from all over the world for one purpose to suddenly be missing events and fighting over something as trivial as a phone? The International Gymnastics Committee issued a warning today to all participants of the dire consequences they face for missing events. It's the first time in the sixty-eight year history of the Association they've had to make such a statement.”

Perry had to admit it did sound like there was more to this than just a few dissatisfied athletes. Realizing it took a lot of courage for Olson to call for help rather than trying to handle the situation alone, Perry felt proud of the young man. He was thinking of the story rather than trying to be a hot dog. He was willing to swallow his pride and ask for help when he figured he was in over his head. “I think you're right about that,” the editor stated. “It does seem odd.” Wanting to keep up Olson's confidence, rather than suggesting he send help, Perry asked, “Tell me what you need, son.”

Jimmy thought for a moment, trying to decide how best to say what he was thinking, but finally just took the direct approach. “I think I could use some help.”

“You've got it. Lois will be there tomorrow.” Perry paused briefly, and then changed the subject. “Did you get anything we can use from today's events?”

“Yeah!” Jimmy said excitedly. He felt much more at ease with the crisis behind him. “I sent some film and taped interviews down by courier earlier today. Doris in copy said she'd get it ready for the morning edition.”

“Good work, son. I'll be talking to you again soon.”

“Good-bye, Chief. And thanks.”

* * * * * * 

“This is it. We're home.” Clark turned the key in the lock and opened the door of his apartment. He stepped inside and motioned for Paul and Scott to follow. “Leave your things at the bottom of the landing and have a seat. I'm going to go change.”

Scott was surprised to see their host back and sitting in the chair facing them before he and his father sat down on the couch. “Wow! That was quick.”

Paul saw the alarm in Clark's face, as Clark realized Scott didn't know his secret. Meeting Clark's eyes, he said, “It's all right. My son will understand your need for privacy.”

“Huh?” Scott glanced back and forth between his dad and this man he'd just met. “I'll what?”

Paul put his hand on Scott's arm. “You remember how accepted we felt at the Kent's, and how they didn't seem surprised by the special things they saw us do?”

Scott nodded.

“You remember telling me how Martha seemed to understand how you felt, and how she told you to use your special abilities to help people?”

“Yeah.” Scott glanced at the Kent's son, and then returned his gaze to his father wondering why he was talking about this now.

“You remember the Kents saying they'd met a visitor many years ago, and how we talked about it seemed they were keeping some kind of secret?”

Scott nodded again.

Paul turned to face their host. “When we met Clark at the airport, I knew what their secret was.”

“Huh?” Scott glanced at Clark, then back to his father. A frown wrinkled Scott's forehead as a look of bewilderment came over him. “What?”

Clark folded his hands, looked directly at Scott, and said, “Me.” He paused, turned away just for a second, and then took a deep breath. “I'm Superman.”

Opening and closing his mouth a few times, Scott finally managed to speak. “You're the guy in the newspaper…who can fly?”

Clark smiled at Scott and nodded.

“Wow! That means, you're…you're an alien too, like my dad.” Scott hesitated a moment, then added in a whisper, “…like me.”

“Yes. My parents, the Kents, found me in a spaceship in 1966 when I was a just a baby. We don't know much about Krypton, the planet I'm from, why I'm here, or why I'm different than everyone else.”

Scott looked at his father. “My dad came back from his world three years ago to be with me. Before that, I was in a foster home because my mom had to give me up to keep the government from getting me.” Pausing to take a deep breath, Scott continued, very quietly, “She's from Wisconsin. We're trying to find her.”

“I first came to this planet about eighteen years ago as an ambassador from my people,” Paul explained. “There was a…a misunderstanding about my intentions. I had to leave after only three days, but I gave Jenny, Scott's mother, a baby as a very special gift.” Gazing tenderly at Scott, he said, “I returned when I received a signal of distress from my son. Now, Scott is helping me learn about life on Earth and I'm glad for that.” He squeezed Scott's arm gently. “I teach him things, too.”

“Then you came here by choice?” Clark asked.

“Yes, in response to the invitation sent in the Voyager probe launched by the United States. My people had been to Earth before, but chose not to make contact.” He thought for a moment. “In hindsight, it wasn't time yet when I first came, but I've never regretted it. Meeting Jenny and learning about love made it all worthwhile.”

“But you've lost her now. Isn't that hard?”

Paul paused. “Yes, but I haven't given up trying to find that happiness again. When a man can live with the woman he loves, and raise his children, he is truly blessed.”

As he pictured Lois in his mind, Clark said, “Yes, that's very true.” Suddenly remembering his mother telling him Paul was a mapmaker of the universe, Clark asked, “Do you know anything about Krypton?”

“Not by that name. Can you give me some coordinates, or do you know where it's located in the night sky?”

Realizing it would be impossible for Paul to tell him anything without some clue to start with, Clark whispered, “I don't have any idea.”

Paul saw the disappointment in Clark's face. “People from my world have explored the universe for millennia. We have observed many types of life, and have seen the creation, and destruction of whole civilizations, planets, stars and even galaxies. Though I have no personal knowledge of your home-world, I'm sure somewhere in our records there's information about your people.”

“Can you find out anything about Krypton?”

Paul thought for a moment. “Maybe, but since the only clue we have to work with is that you are of the same life-form as humans, the search could take a while.”

“You also know how long Clark has been on Earth, Dad. Wouldn't that help too?”

“Yes, Scott, it might. Since something must have happened to cause Clark to be sent here, we could also search for unusual occurrences that took place about the time Clark was found, adjusted for travel time, of course.” Paul gave Clark a reassuring smile. “Right now, I can't make contact with my people. Earth's sun is in a position that blocks my transmission. But as soon as possible, I'll send a message and we'll see what we can find out.”

Clark let out a deep breath and said, “Thank you.” After a few moments of awkward silence, he frowned slightly. “How is it you look like Paul Forrester? Did you take over his body?”

“Of course not! I'd never do that,” Paul answered quickly. “But in order to survive here I had to have a human body. I cloned this one,” sweeping his hand from his head to his feet, “from a drop of Forrester's blood.”

“Cloning?” Clark asked. “I didn't think that was possible.”

“For humans, maybe it isn't, yet. But my people have been doing symbiotic transformations for many years.”

“So, are you Forrester?”

“Not really. He died on Mount Hawthorne. I only look like him. I have none of his memories, his knowledge, or his skills. I had to learn what it means to be human, and how to be Paul Forrester.”

“So a clone is nothing more than a biological machine and you, the real you, give it meaning, a life, a personality?”

“Yes. That's a good way to describe it.”

Scott slapped his father's leg playfully. “It's a good thing you don't have the guy's personality.” Smiling first at his father, then at Clark, he said, “Forrester's past gets us in trouble all the time.”

The three shared some nervous laughter. After a few moments of silence, Paul asked, “Why do you wear the costume when you help people?”

Clark put his hands together in front of him, with his fingers spread, and only the tips touching. “Superman keeps the people I love safe. If it became known who I am, there are those who would use anyone close to me, especially my parents, to get to me, to coerce me to do their bidding or to make me stop being Superman.”

“Then why do it?” Scott asked.

Looking first at Scott, and then focusing directly on Paul, Clark responded, “I know your father understands. We can't turn it off. When someone is hurting or in trouble I have to help. We have to help.”

Scott regretted asking the question. “Yeah, I knew that.”

“But it's hard sometimes to keep Superman a secret. Lois, my partner and my…friend is always talking about how wonderful she thinks Superman is, then in the next sentence she'll put down Clark Kent. I just have to take it. I can't say anything.”

Leaning forward, Paul put his hand on Clark's shoulder and felt the turmoil inside. “Keeping a secret, especially a huge secret like you and I do, is very difficult. It'll eat away at you if you let it. Focus on the positive and don't start resenting Superman. Continue to be a friend to Lois and maybe someday she'll see Clark Kent as you want her to.”

As the peace and calm washed over him, Clark spoke quietly. “I know being Superman is the right thing to do, but I have feelings. I may be the Man of Steel and be invulnerable, but I just want Lois to like me, Clark Kent. Sometimes, I'm jealous of Superman and he…is…me.” Suddenly embarrassed, Clark said, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to unload on you guys, but being able to talk about Superman to someone other than my parents is unusual. It feels so good. I've lived my whole life with this secret, never being able to talk like this before.”

“That's because you've never met anyone like you,” Paul said quietly, “at least, something like you.” He removed his hand from Clark's shoulder, and turned to his son. “We have only each other. Fox keeps us on the move, and we have no chance to form attachments. Cherish your family and friends, because they give meaning to life.”

“You're right about that.” Clark thought for a moment about how lucky he was to have parents who loved him, and to have grown up in a 'normal' environment. After a brief pause, his forehead creased in a slight frown and he asked, “Who's Fox?”

“George Fox is an agent with the Federal Security Agency who's trying to catch us,” Paul answered.

“He's the guy who chased my mother until she had to leave me with strangers, just to keep me safe,” Scott said angrily.

Seeing the rage in the young man's eyes, Clark spoke softly. “My dad has always warned me to be careful about revealing my abilities.” He looked from Paul to Scott and said, “He's always worried about someone coming to take me away to, in his words, 'dissect me like a frog'.”

Paul nodded in understanding. “He's right. We've been captured, and it's not pleasant.”

As he saw an involuntary shiver grip Scott, Clark felt a cold chill go up his own spine. “There's a man from the government, Jason Trask, who thinks I'm a threat to humanity. I'm not really worried for myself, but I have to protect my parents and the others I care about. Clark Kent is keeping Superman's identity safe.”

For several seconds, the three new friends sat in silence. Finally, Clark stood and said, “I guess it's about time for bed. One of you can have the couch, but I'm afraid the other will have to sleep on the floor.”

Scott glanced at his father and said, “The floor will be fine for me. I've slept in worse places.”

###    
**Friday, May 16**  


George Fox jerked the memo from his box as he walked into the office. He smiled to himself and thought, _this should be the travel authorization Wylie requested yesterday_. Pouring himself a cup of coffee from the freshly brewed pot Edna always had ready, he walked to his desk. Fox groaned as he read the memo: “Funding for search and surveillance in Metropolis denied. No evidence has been produced proving probable sighting of subject in said area. Investigation of other sightings and phenomena are not within the jurisdiction of your office.”

Fox shouted at the empty room, “Those idiot paper-pushers upstairs! Can't they see this dual threat overshadows jurisdictional boundaries?” He punched the intercom button and yelled, “Wylie, get in here!”

When his assistant entered the room, Fox said, “What can we do to find out more about Bureau 39?”

“Uh…I don't know, Mr. Fox. They're a ghost…”

“Yes, I know; a ghost agency. But surely someone in this mess of a bureaucracy we call a government must know who is in charge over there. They have to be funded some way. I want you to find them for me. I've got to talk to someone about their investigations.”

“Uh…yes, Mr. Fox, I'll do my best.” Wylie backed out of his boss's office, walked down the hall to his own, and closed the door behind him. Standing in the middle of the room, holding his head in his hands, Wylie said to himself, “Of all the jobs Mr. Fox has ever given me, this is the hardest. I've already contacted the FBI, the NSA, the ATF people, the Departments of Justice and State, and the CIA. No one in Washington claims Bureau 39.” He shook his head and groaned, “I guess I'll have to start back with the Project Blue Book records, and that means it's going to take a long time. Those files are sealed and I'm not sure I'll be able to get the proper authorization to research them.”

* * * * * * 

Lex Luthor dropped the pile of papers on his desk and turned to face his assistant, Nigel. “Were there any problems controlling the delivery of the product to Oneonta?”

“No, Mr. Luthor. Our man made sure the order for the hotel was replaced with our product. He told them there was a problem with inventory and the one type was all they could get.”

“The testing of LL485 appears to be a success, then?”

“Yes, Mr. Luthor. Sales on the LSN from the Oneonta area are triple their normal level. Our on-site observer says athletes, officials and others are ignoring everything except the television.”

“Have there been any complications?”

“Nothing significant. One unexpected side effect is the number of arguments that occurred. It appears LL485 causes a very passionate response in people.”

“When can we expand to more markets?” Luthor asked as he lit a cigar.

“Very soon. LexPrint is going into mass production next week. We'll have enough product to distribute nationwide by the end of the month. It will go through regular channels, because, unlike in Oneonta where we wanted a controlled test, there won't be any need for a concentrated dose.”

With a smile of satisfaction, Luthor exhaled a large cloud of smoke, and said, “Excellent.” He paused to take another pull on his cigar, and then asked, “Have you ever heard of the golden rule, Nigel?”

“I believe so sir. Isn't it 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you'.”

Luthor burst into a long, loud laugh. “No, that isn't exactly what I meant. My golden rule is 'He who has the gold, makes the rules'.”

“Yes, I see, very good, sir. That does seem to be a bit more appropriate.”

As the smoked curled around his head, Luthor said, “Yes, Nigel, it most certainly is.”

* * * * * * 

Clark lay on his back in bed, stretched his body to its full length and opened his eyes. Looking at the clock, he saw it was only six and wondered what had caused him to wake up so early. As he sat on the edge of the bed, he listened. When he heard someone walking in the kitchen, he knew one of his guests had also awakened early.

After pulling on a pair of blue jeans and a sweatshirt, he joined Scott in front of the balcony window. “I guess the floor must not have been a very good bed, huh?”

Startled, Scott jumped then turned to face Clark. “It was kind of hard, but I didn't mind. When the sun started coming up though, I couldn't go back to sleep, so I came over here to see what I could see.”

Looking back towards the still-sleeping Paul, Clark said, “Let's go out on the balcony where we can talk without disturbing your father. Do you want some coffee, fruit juice or milk?”

“Hot chocolate would be good, if you have some?”

Clark grinned. “You’re a man after my own stomach. Lois tells me I eat like an eight year-old, but I can see you understand the importance of eating 'right'.” Moving silently to the cupboard, Clark removed two cups and two packages of instant hot chocolate mix. He filled the cups with water from a bottle in the refrigerator, and grabbed a couple of spoons from the drawer. He came back to where Scott was standing, unlatched the balcony door and motioned for him to go outside. Clark closed the door behind them and said, “Take a seat. I'll have the chocolate made in just a minute.”

Scott pulled a chair out from under the small table and asked, “Shouldn't you have heated the water first?” Sitting down, he looked up into his host's face. The idea of a cold chocolate drink didn't appeal to him.

As he placed the items on the table and sat in the other chair, Clark laughed. “I'm going to.” Through the power of his heat vision, Clark soon had the water boiling. At super-speed he opened the chocolate package, poured it into the steaming water, and stirred. When he handed the cup to Scott, he saw the open-mouthed amazement on the young man's face.

Realizing he'd just used his powers in the presence of another person without trying to hide his identity, Clark thought about his actions. _I'm so comfortable with Paul and Scott that it never occurred to me to do this any way other than I normally do when I'm alone. I've never felt such a kinship in all my life_. “What's the matter, Scott?”

“Nothing, I guess. It's just…just…I don't know.”

Cocking his head sideways, Clark asked, “Different, maybe?”

“Yeah, that's it.” Scott sipped the chocolate, and stared into the sky for a few minutes, before he turned back to Clark. Finally, he asked, “Have you always been…different?”

“Yes.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Sometimes but not so much since I've gotten older.”

“What about before, when you were growing up?”

Clark sighed. “As I grew up, I went through lots of stages. I liked being able to run fast, lift things, and see through things, but my parents wouldn't let me use my powers when I was around others. When I was little, I didn't understand why, and after a while, I just wanted to be normal.”

Knowing exactly what Clark meant, Scott said, “You wanted to be normal, because you didn't ask to be different.”

Clark nodded, “Right. More than anything, I didn't want to be special, because being special singled me out. I didn't fit in anywhere.” He paused for a moment. “Next, there was a period when I wanted to show off, but I was old enough by then to know it would be dangerous for me and my parents if someone found out about me.”

Laughing, Scott said, “When kids in school are being bullies, I want to do—things—too, but I know better. If I did something weird, we'd have to run again.”

As he remembered having those same feelings in similar situations, Clark smiled and asked, “But didn't you just want to whack them sometimes?”

“You got it!” Scott grinned broadly.

“When I became a teenager, I often stared into the mirror and wondered if there was anyone else in the world who looked like me and who was…was like me in other ways. I wanted to know who I was, and where I came from, just the basic questions of life that everybody else knows. More than at any other time during my life, I just wanted to blend in and be like everyone else. Finally, as I left my teen years, I gave up my dream of being normal and accepted the fact that I would always be different. I decided to make the best of my gifts by using my powers to help others.”

Scott squirmed in his chair, still uncomfortable with his alien heritage. “I'm not sure I can do that, at least not yet. There's so much I don't know about who I am, even what I am.”

“If you're anything like I was, it's a gradual process of learning and developing your abilities. I could bench-press cars at five, but I didn't fly until I was eighteen. Just be patient.”

Thinking for a moment about all the things that had changed for him since he met his father, Scott said, “I grew up knowing there was something different about me, but I never dreamed I was half alien. It was quite a shock three years ago to get the tape my mother made explaining about my father.”

“That's almost three years more than I've known, for sure, that I'm not from Earth,” Clark said very quietly. “Be glad you have your real father. You know how you came to be what you are. We always suspected I might not be from this planet, but until I found the ship and the globe at the Bureau 39 warehouse just a few months ago, I didn't know for sure.”

Taken by surprise at this revelation, Scott looked closely at Clark. “I understand how important it is to know about where you came from, but you've always had a family who loves you. I felt total acceptance and complete understanding from your parents while we stayed there. Now, I know why.”

“They are very special people. I know my life could have been very different if I'd been found by someone else.” Clark paused and took a deep breath. “I love my parents, the Kents, but I want to know why I was sent here from Krypton. It's the not knowing anything about Krypton that is the most difficult. Did my Kryptonian parents love me? What happened to them? Why did they send me here? I know they must have had a reason. Why didn't they come, too? Did I inherit my powers from them? Does everyone on Krypton have powers like me? Are there more like me on Earth?”

Scott nodded in understanding. “I never knew my real father while I was growing up, and my mother gave me away when I was three. Even though deep down I always felt she loved me, it was hard to accept that she left me when I was so young. I really don't remember her, but I have an old photograph. I never got along with my foster parents because they just didn't understand me, but I tried to fit in. For me, the biggest fear as a child was that I'd be abandoned again.”

“I guess I was lucky in that. Dad and Mom always accepted me and made me feel loved, even though we were never really sure quite what I was.” Clark grinned broadly. “Mom once told me they didn't know if I was a Martian or a Russian experiment, but they loved me anyway. Sometimes, I feel like a cereal box with no ingredients. Even furniture has a tag that says what it's made of.”

Laughing at the strange image Clark had conjured up, the two young men sat looking at each other for several minutes. Finally, Clark broke the silence. “I'm at peace, in a sense, now that I know for sure that I'm not of this world, but I would like to know more. It's like getting near the end of a book, and you have two more pages to read, and you lose the book.”

Scott nodded in agreement. “I understand, believe me, I understand. Until my dad came back, everything was a big mystery. Now, I'm learning about myself, my special abilities, and my father's world.”

“That has to be very nice.” Clark let out a deep breath. “When I was in high school and college, I did some research on adoption and the search for birth parents. I found it's normal for adoptees to wonder if they really exist, because no one they know was there when they were born. Of course, intellectually adoptees realize they must have been born, since it's the only way they could have come to be. But for me, because I'm so different from everyone else, I couldn't even be sure of that.

“I learned the search is often an attempt to repair the feeling of 'disconnectedness' from the human race many adoptees feel. By knowing where you come from and what your biological heritage is, you know where you fit in the world. An adopted child often thinks no one else in the world began life the way they did. Now, I know I didn't.”

Scott put his hand on Clark's arm, and felt some of his emotions. “We' didn't,” he said quietly. “We aren't like anyone else on the planet.”

“Yes, and that's all right.” Clark paused for a moment. “I remember one particular interview I read in a book on adoption that I always liked. The young woman said she felt as if she'd never been born, as if she came from Mars. It made me feel a little less abnormal to realize someone else had the same thoughts I did, though, I knew in my case, it might be true.”

The two young men shared a nervous laugh, for both knew they were not the same as other people on the planet. Clark continued, “For a long time I thought about trying to find out more about myself, but now, I know I won't be able to do that in the same way as other adoptees. You're lucky, Scott. You know who your mother is and you have your father to give you answers.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Being on the run with him for the last three years has been hard because we can't call any place home, but at least we have each other. Someday we'll find my mom and I'll have a whole family like you.”

“I'm sure you will. It may… Oops! There goes the alarm. I guess we've been out here quite a while.”

Scott frowned. “I don't hear anything.”

Clark laughed. “Trust me on this, Scott. The alarm is ringing. Now, we've got to get moving, so your father and I can get to work on time.”

As Clark and Scott entered the apartment, they saw Paul sitting on the couch. “Well, Dad, did you finally wake up? Your sleeping late is getting to be a habit.”

“Not so late,” Paul replied with a smile.

“No, it's not late,” Clark said, “but if we don't get cleaned up and get breakfast, we will be. What do you guys want to eat?”

“Anything you have will be fine.” Scott glanced at his father. “Dad and I aren't picky.”

“Scott's right, but you should let us prepare it. We need to do something to repay your hospitality.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Clark said, “but we don't have the time. Because it doesn't take me as long to get ready as other people, I set my alarm with a minimum of time available. I forgot to change it, so I'll have to fix breakfast.”

“Yes, I guess you're right,” Paul said.

“Okay, eggs and bacon coming up.” At super-speed, Clark removed the food from the refrigerator and placed the bacon on a slotted rack over a drain pan and broke the eggs into plates. He used his heat vision to cook everything, then placed the food on the table. Filling glasses with juice, and serving those, Clark slowed to normal speed. “It's ready,” he announced.

Paul had watched the whole operation with interest. “I'm glad you decided to cook the food. I was worried there for a minute. Raw eggs didn't sound appetizing.”

Doing a double take, Clark looked at his guest. “You could see me?”

“Not clearly, but well enough to tell what you were doing.”

“No one has ever been able to see me when I move at super-speed.”

Scott raised his eyebrows a couple of times, as his father often did. “Some eyes are quicker than others. My dad sees things no one else can.”

As he wondered about his new friend's many abilities, Clark said, “I guess I'm going to have to get used to that, aren't I?”

As they sat down at the table, Scott said, “I guess you are. You aren't the only weird one around here anymore.”

After breakfast, when Clark and Paul were ready to leave for the _Planet_ , Paul turned to Scott. “Are you going to be all right here alone?”

Looking for a long time at Clark, Scott finally said, “Sure, Dad. I've got a lot to think about.”

* * * * * * 

Catherine Grant stood beside Lois Lane's desk looking down at her more sedately dressed colleague. “That interview I did yesterday was one of the most difficult of my career. I couldn't get a straight answer out of Ros…” Cat let out a low whistle. “Look…at…THAT!”

“What?” Lois asked sharply.

“Over there, coming out of the elevator with Clark. I can't believe my eyes. It's Paul Forrester.”

“Who?”

“Paul Forrester. Surely you've heard of him. Every 'reporter' has.”

Lois thought for a moment, and decided she did remember the name. Watching him come down the ramp towards them, she said, “Yes, I know. He's a photographer, isn't he?”

“He's a lot more than that,” Cat said, as she walked away from the desk to intercept the two men before they could enter the newsroom floor.

Paul surveyed the room as he exited the elevator. Several men and women were working at desks, and small groups of people were standing around talking. Several more people were walking across the room. Because of his concentration on the busy scene below him, Paul didn't see the woman coming up the ramp.

“Helloooo, there,” Cat purred, as she grabbed Paul around the neck. Pulling his face to hers, she clamped her lips onto his.

Paul opened his eyes wide both from shock and lack of air. He held his hands up not quite knowing what to do. _Obviously, this woman knows me, or thinks she does_ , he thought. _Her clothing seems very skimpy. I'd like to break this embrace, but every place where I think about putting my hands to push her away, would put me in direct contact with her bare skin. This is embarrassing_.

Finally ending the kiss, Cat said, “Where have you been? After that week in Reno I never saw you again.”

Realizing this woman knew the original Forrester well, he spoke with the tone of his predecessor, “I had other people to see and places to go, baby.”

“But you said you'd come to Metropolis to see me.”

Paul smirked and patted her on the head. “You just didn't fit into my schedule, honey.”

Perry came out of his office in time to see the end of this exchange. “Kent, Forrester, can I see you in my office, now?”

“Sure, Chief. We're coming,” Clark said. He put his hand on Paul's back and gently pushed him past Cat.

As the two men went into the editor's office, Lois walked up the ramp and stood by Cat. “I guess you're not as special as you think you are. The legendary Paul Forrester just blew you off.”

Cat looked first at the closed door into which Forrester had gone, and then down into the face of the woman standing next to her. Barely controlling her temper, she spat, “You don't know anything about it.”

Lois smiled broadly as Cat stomped away. Talking to herself, she said, “Not bad, Lane. You finally got the better of her.”

 

Coming out of his office followed by Kent and Forrester, Perry White yelled, “Staff meeting people, in five minutes. Messenger!”

A young man ran up to Perry. “Yes, sir, Mr. White.”

“Take this film down to the lab and have it processed right away. Bring me the prints as soon as they're ready.”

Grabbing the canister, he ran for the elevator. “Yes, sir, Mr. White.”

As Perry walked away, Clark saw Lois coming towards them. “Good morning, Lois. I'd like you to meet Paul Forrester.”

“Hello, Mr. Forrester.” Lois extended her hand and looked up at the tall, handsome man.

Paul felt a mixture of emotions coming from the woman. He smiled. “Hello, and please call me Paul. It's nice to finally meet you, Lois. I've heard a lot about you.”

Observing a totally different attitude than she'd seen when he was talking to Cat, Lois was very puzzled. “What are you doing at the _Planet_?”

“I'm working here now.”

Lois thought to herself, _This man seems polite, courteous, and kind. He doesn't seem to be the same person I saw come in a few minutes ago_. “That's interesting. I thought you only did free-lance work.”

“Not always.”

“You do know your reputation precedes you.”

Paul laughed. “Yeah, I guess it does, but so does yours.” When he saw Lois frown, and Clark grin broadly, Paul wondered what she thought Clark had said about her. Not wanting to cause a misunderstanding, Paul added quickly, “Mr. White told me you're one of the best investigative reporters he's ever known, and I could learn a lot about getting a job done from you.”

Lois watched Clark make every effort to keep a straight face. “Oh. I thought….” She took a deep breath, and then smiled sweetly. “It will be a pleasure to work with you.” Lois tilted her head towards Clark and said, “I won't have to teach you the ropes, like I do with rookies.”

Paul raised his eyebrows. “Rookies? What is rookies?”

Before either Lois or Clark could respond, Perry stuck his head out of the conference room. “People, do you think you could join us now?”

Exchanging looks, the three walked quickly into the meeting.

 

Perry motioned for Paul to stand. “I'd like all of you to welcome Paul Forrester. Some of you may know him from previous work he's done. Here at the _Planet_ , he'll be a staff photographer.”

Paul noted the various reactions, realizing many of these people knew his predecessor. Several people said hello, and welcome. Some gave him hopeful looks, while others gave him scornful looks. He thought to himself, _Maybe this wasn't such a good place to take a job where I might have problems with Forrester's past. The editor made it clear in the earlier interview I wouldn't be getting any special treatment and shouldn't act like a star. It's obvious Mr. White expects Paul Forrester to be a trouble maker_.

Perry stood in front of the room. “Now, before I give out the assignments, do any of you have anything newsworthy? Today's slate of events is almost as empty as yesterday's was full.”

“Chief, I might have something.”

“What is it, Applegate?”

“Uh…well…. Maybe it's nothing, really.”

“What is it man? Spit it out.” Crossing his arms, the editor looked sternly at the nerdy reporter with the horn-rimmed glasses and bow tie.

Gordon Applegate wished he'd never opened his mouth, because he now realized the editor was going to laugh him out of the room. Taking a deep breath, he started again, “Uh…yesterday while I was interviewing Senator Steros he mentioned, um…he said…” Finishing in a rush, “he said he saw a UFO pass over his house a few nights ago.”

Several people in the room giggled, others suppressed snickers, and one person laughed aloud. All eyes turned to the Chief expecting an outburst about not bringing tabloid trash into the newsroom.

Perry surveyed the room. “Now, people, that's no way to react. Lots of reputable citizens have reported sightings of UFO's. President Jimmy Carter, Senator Barry Goldwater, Jackie Gleason, and John Lennon to name a few. Even the King reported seeing a UFO. He was at his house on Perugia Way in Bel Air with Sonny West and Jerry Schilling in 1966 when they watched a UFO pass over. I'm sure the Senator did see something. Follow it up, Applegate. Good work.”

At the mention of a UFO sighting in 1966, Clark's head snapped up and his stomach did a flip-flop. Looking across the room at Paul, he saw the almost imperceptible lifting of his eyebrows that signaled he'd also caught the significance of the date. Clark searched the other faces in the room to see if anyone, especially Lois, had seen his reaction to the Elvis story. He was relieved to see most people exchanging glances in wonder at this unexpected response from their boss. Those who had openly laughed at Applegate's idea were attempting to suppress their giggles. Clark let out the breath he'd been holding.

“If there's nothing more,” Perry said, “I'll hand out the assignments and we can all get to work.”

 

As the newsroom staff left the conference room at the end of the meeting, Perry called out, “Lois, a moment of your time.”

Turning, she said, “Yes, Chief?”

“Would you come to my office? I've got a special assignment for you.”

“Sure, just give me a moment.” About five minutes later, Lois walked into the editor's office. Seeing him on the phone, she turned to leave, but he motioned her to take a seat. She couldn't help overhearing his side of the conversation.

“I looked, but I didn't find any in Metropolis.…No, no, I'm sure they're available. I just have to get out of the city and find a place which has them in stock.…No, I haven't given up.…Right. I know. You want a full sheet, plus you want them mailed to you using the Elvis stamp so you get the cancellation.…Right. Good-bye.”

After he'd hung up the phone, Perry apologized. “Sorry about that, Lois.”

“It's okay, Chief.” She thought about how involved he was with Elvis. Lois didn't understand people who became wrapped up in celebrities or television programs because it was such a waste of time, but she knew many people did. “I take it someone wants Elvis stamps?”

Leaning back in his chair, Perry put his hands together in front of himself with only the fingertips touching. “I have a friend in London who has been after me to get her a sheet of Elvis stamps, but I just don't ever get to it.”

“You will. Now, what did you want to see me about?”

“I need you to go to Oneonta to help Olson. He's run into something strange up there.”

“But, it's sports,” Lois said with a frown.

“No, there's more to it than the gymnastics. I believe him when he says something unusual is happening.”

“Unusual?”

“Maybe the kid is just in over his head, but somehow I don't think so. I want you to go find out for me.”

Though she opened her mouth to protest again, Lois saw the finality in Perry's eyes and said nothing more. She stood. “I'll get a car from the pool and leave as soon as I can.”

* * * * * * 

“Jimmy!” Lois shouted. Waving her arms, she attracted the attention of her colleague, who was standing across the hotel lobby talking to a man. As she walked over to them, she realized she knew the person with Jimmy.

Lois shook the older man's hand and said, “Stewart Rogers, hello. How long has it been?”

“Well, Lois Lane, star reporter for the _Daily Planet_. The last time we worked together, or competed for a story actually, was quite some time back. I thought you didn't do sports?”

Blushing at the put-down, Lois said, “Not usually, Stewart, but I do whatever my editor asks. I am a team player.”

“Hah! Since when is Lois Lane ever willing to be anything other than the top banana?”

Jimmy jumped in, “I asked the Chief to send someone. You know how weird things are up here.”

Stewart sobered immediately and looked first at Jimmy then Lois, “Yes, I've never seen anything like it in my twenty-five years of covering sports.”

“What's happening?” Lois asked. “The Chief didn't give me much of a briefing.”

Glancing at the older man, Jimmy described the things he'd observed, the athletes missing events, the fights, and people not showing up for work.

Stewart shook his head. “Like I said, I've not seen so many non-performances in all my years as a sports reporter. There's a story here, it just has to be found.”

“You're right, Stewart. We'll be talking again, I'm sure.” Lois took Jimmy by the arm and steered him away from the other reporter. She stopped when they were out of ear-shot. “Don't you know you never talk about a story with the competition!”

“I didn't talk to him, he talked to me.”

“What's the difference? Never give information to another reporter.” Seeing a look of dejection on Jimmy's face, Lois softened, “It's all right. I guess you have to learn how to answer questions without really answering the question.” She put her hand on his arm and said, “Now, tell me where we start.”

“I think we should go to the arena and talk to some of the people there first.” Jimmy looked at his watch. “It's ten now, and the courier will be here at ten-thirty. Let me get my film ready to send back to the _Planet_ , and then we'll go.”

“Okay, I'll look around some.”

“If you go into the coffee shop lounge you'll see what I mean about people, all kinds of people, doing nothing but watching television. It's weird.”

“All right.” As she turned away, Lois spotted a young woman sitting in the lobby, placing stamps on an envelope. When she realized they were the Elvis stamps Perry wanted, Lois went over to her. “Excuse me, can you tell me where you bought those stamps?”

The young woman looked at the stranger standing next to her and said, “No hablo ingles.”

“Great,” Lois rolled her eyes. Thinking back to a one semester Spanish course she'd had in college, Lois pointed at the stamps and said, “¿Donde las estampillas?”

The sentence was poorly formed, but the young woman thought she understood the question. She pointed across the room and said, “En la tienda, alla.”

Lois looked where the woman pointed. “In the gift shop?”

Nodding, the woman said, “Si, la tienda.”

“Thank you, er…gracias.” Lois smiled at the woman, obviously one of the gymnasts by her costume, then turned and walked across the room to the hotel gift shop.

The store attendant was reading a book and didn't look up when Lois entered. “Excuse me do you have any Elvis stamps?” Lois asked.

The young man raised his head slowly and said, “Lady, that's just about all I have got!” Putting his book on the counter, he opened a drawer and pulled out a folder of stamps. “We always order a variety, especially when we have a convention or event of some kind in town, but this time, these things are all we could get. Except for a few odds and ends, what you see here is what you get.” Spreading the sheets of Elvis stamps like a fan, he asked, “Do you know how many people refuse to use Elvis stamps?”

“I wouldn't know.”

“Lots of people, I tell you. It causes me all kinds of trouble to have to explain to people this is all they can get. Not to mention, the need for denominations other than twenty-nine cents. You can't send international mail for the price of an Elvis stamp. It sure is a headache.”

Lois had to admit, it sounded strange for a postal substation to have only one kind of stamp. “Why don't you have other stamps?”

“I just told you, we couldn't get anything else. My boss talked to someone at the main post office who said there'd been some kind of problems with shipping of inventory. It sounds kind of stupid to me. I think they should be able to provide us with better service.”

“I agree.” Filing away this event as something else strange, Lois said, “I'll take a full sheet of the stamps plus enough more to mail them to England.”

Lois was finishing her purchase just as Jimmy entered the shop. “Oh, there you are. I'm going to leave this packet at the desk and we'll go to the arena.”

As the two walked from the store, Lois asked, “Can I put these stamps in there? The Chief wants them.”

Jimmy shrugged, “Sure. I'll open it again.”

As Lois wrote a note to enclose with the stamps, she said, “Be sure to change the routing on the package so it'll go to Perry first. I want him to have this today.”

“Okay, can do.”

* * * * * * 

“Where are we going, Clark?” Paul asked.

“The Metropolis Cemetery.”

Thinking about the first cemetery he'd seen when he found Scott in Seattle, Paul said, “People are buried in cemeteries after they die. What are we going there for?”

“The burial service we're to attend is for a man and his daughter who were killed while they were trying to help some victims of a drive-by shooting. When they saw a car crash into the front of a store, they stopped to help. The driver had been shot. The shooters came back and opened fire again, killing both of them and the second person in the car that had crashed.”

“I've heard of such things. It doesn't make any sense to me why some humans settle their differences with guns.”

Glancing at the taxi driver to see if he was listening to any of their conversation, Clark decided he was in his own world. Clark sighed. “It doesn't make any sense to me either. I'll talk to any public officials who are at the service and you get some appropriate photographs. But, we must be careful not to intrude on the family.”

“Okay.” When the driver turned a corner, Paul looked out the side window of the taxi and saw a sign stating the cemetery was three miles ahead. He saw a police car parked along the street, but no officer was present. Then Paul saw another police car, then another, and another. A feeling of apprehension rose in his chest.

As the driver turned into the entrance of the cemetery, Paul saw the roadway lined with law enforcement officers standing at attention. Because of the variety of uniforms, he knew they were from many different agencies. Paul turned to Clark. “I can't stay here.”

Seeing the panic in his friend's eyes, Clark asked “Why? What's the matter?”

“The police, they're all over this place.”

“Yes, the man who was killed was a retired Metropolis policeman who had only recently quit the force because his wife was worried about the danger. He was driving his daughter back from her wedding rehearsal when their lives were taken.”

The taxi stopped at the head of the driveway and Clark opened the door. Turning to his friend he said, “Come on, Paul, it'll be all right.” He got out and paid the driver.

Paul glanced at the sheriff's deputy standing right by the taxi door, then slid across the seat and stepped out behind Clark. Looking around nervously, he whispered, “I'm not so sure about this.”

Clark pointed. “Let's go over by those trees where we can talk.”

“I'd rather leave.”

“Paul, we need to talk. Please.” Clark put his hand in the middle of Paul's back and pushed him gently towards the trees. After walking away from the driveway, they stopped. “I'm sorry,” Clark said. “Superman has such a good relationship with the police, it never occurred to me this would be a frightening situation for you.”

Never taking his eyes from the hundreds of men and women in uniform standing along the driveway and gathered at the grave site Paul said, “I've got to get out of here.”

“Think about it, Paul. Fox has no way to know you're on the east coast. The last time he found you was in Denver, and he has no reason to come to Metropolis. Why would he have alerted any of these agencies about you?”

“But there's an outstanding red flag on us that alerts all agencies.”

“Yes, but that's only activated if someone makes an inquiry. These people are here to say good-bye to a fallen comrade. They won't be looking at you, and as long as you don't draw attention to yourself, you'll be fine. No one looks at the photographer.”

“I…I don't think I should do this. It's too dangerous.”

“Paul, look at me.” When his friend turned away from the scene in the cemetery to face him, Clark continued, “If anything happens, I can get you and Scott to the west coast in a matter of minutes. Now, relax. We've got a job to do.”

Paul took several deep breaths. “Okay, I'll trust you.” He smiled hesitantly.

Returning Paul's smile, Clark said, “I'm glad you're feeling better about this.”

“I'm not feeling better. I just remembered something Scott once told me. 'Trust is doing something somebody asks you to do, even if you think it's dumb.'“

Clark raised an eyebrow. “That's an interesting definition, but I don't think you're being dumb.”

“Okay, if you say so. Let's go.”

* * * * * * 

The messenger intercepted the editor as he walked across the newsroom. “Mr. White, here are the photographs from the film you sent down this morning.”

“Thanks, boy.” Perry took the envelope and started towards his office. Seeing Kent and Forrester come out of the elevator, he motioned to them and yelled, “Forrester! Come over here.”

They exchanged a look and both wondered what the Chief wanted. The two men descended the ramp and met Perry near Clark's desk. “What is it, Mr. White?” Paul asked.

“I just got the prints from your film. I thought you might like to see them.”

“Yes, I would,” Paul said earnestly. “Some of the things we saw driving across Kansas to the airport were quite amazing. I didn't know a storm could cause so much damage.”

As Perry placed each of the photographs on the desk, Paul told what he could about them. “See this piano? It's sitting in the middle of a wheat field and inside it,” he pointed at the center of the piano, “is a boot tied up in the strings. There wasn't a house around for miles, so I don't know how far it traveled.”

Perry continued to line up the pictures of damaged buildings, cars, and fields. But the most powerful photographs showed people, standing in the midst of what once was their lives. A small boy, clutching a teddy bear in one hand, and his mother's pant leg in the other, held back tears as he looked up into the camera.

When Perry put down the next picture, Paul looked at Clark. “This tree is in the Kent's yard. Jonathan told us it was struck by…”

“TCB!” Perry shouted.

“No, not tcb, lightning” Paul said.

“Taking Care of Business, TCB.”

Paul and Clark exchanged a glance. Raising his eyebrows slightly, Clark shrugged. It was obvious neither of them knew what Perry was talking about.

“The King's business motto and working philosophy was Taking Care of Business. He used the letters TCB with a lightning bolt through them as his emblem. The split in this tree looks a lot like that insignia. Did you know a large TCB emblem stands at the head of Elvis's grave at Graceland and he was buried wearing a diamond ring bearing the initials TCB?”

“I didn't know that, Chief,” Clark said.

“Well, it's true. Some people say the lightning bolt came from Elvis's childhood fascination with Captain Marvel comics. The King always wanted to be a superman to those around him.”

“Who's Elvis and the king?” Paul asked, with a blank look on his face. This was the second time he'd heard Mr. White talk about these people and he wanted to know who they were.

Clark saw Perry give Paul a puzzled stare. Realizing that because of Paul's limited time on Earth, he didn't know who Perry was talking about, Clark jumped in quickly to change the subject. “You certainly experienced an awfully powerful storm system, Paul. In all the years I lived in Kansas, I never saw this much destruction over such a wide area.”

Paul saw the slight frown on Clark's face and understood this was something he should not ask about. _Now, Clark is protecting me from mistakes like Scott does_ , Paul thought.

Still staring, but letting Paul's question pass, Perry slapped him on the back. “These pictures are excellent, Forrester. I want to do a photo layout using these and some of the wire service coverage of the tornado. It's being called 'The Storm of the Century' and after seeing these, I can see why.” After he put a few more pictures on the desk, Perry continued, “Lots of these are as good as the ones that won you the Pulitzer prize. Maybe it'll happen again.”

Feeling a sense of panic, Paul said quickly, “Please, I don't want any credit for the pictures. You can use them, but don't say I took them.”

Perry frowned. “Why?”

Clark understood the apprehension Paul was feeling. The danger of exposure outweighed everything else. With a depth of feeling only someone who is also keeping a great secret could understand, Clark said, “Paul likes to stay low profile.”

“Hrumph!” Perry said, as he remembered the Paul Forrester he'd met many years previously. “Since when?”

As he tried to come up with a reasonable excuse, Paul searched Clark's face. Visualizing this special young man growing up on a farm in Kansas, he said quietly, “Since I became a father.”

Taken aback at this revelation, Perry responded, “Oh.” He placed a few more photographs on the desk. “If that's the way you want it, I'll respect your wishes.”

Paul released the breath he'd been holding. “Thank you, Mr. White.”

“Kent, work with Forrester and pick out the best of these photographs, then pull together a feature for the Sunday edition. Maybe add a personal touch to it. You're from Kansas.”

“Okay, Chief. I can use Paul's impressions as someone who's never experienced a tornado with some of the wire service items.”

“Good.” Turning to leave, Perry ran into a delivery person. “Excuse me. I didn't see you standing there.”

“Are you Perry White?” the woman asked.

“Yes.”

“This is for you, from Jimmy Olson.”

“Uh…okay.” After he signed his name on the offered clip board, Perry took the package. He slipped it under his arm and walked into his office. Closing the door, he mumbled to himself, “I wonder why the kid sent this to me rather than directly to the copy desk.”

Perry opened the package and turned it upside down over his desk. Two rolls of film, a tape recording, and some hand-written notes fell out. When he looked into the package, he noticed it wasn't empty. Perry grinned as he pulled the envelope out gently, and saw the complete sheet of Elvis stamps showing through the cloudy front. Taking a piece of paper out of the envelope, he read the note from Lois, 'Chief, I found these at the hotel. Since I knew you wanted some, I got one sheet plus some extra one’s for you to use to mail them to your friend. I hope she enjoys them. Let me know if you want more. Lois. P.S. I heard an advertisement for an Elvis movie that is being shown on television sometime this afternoon. I didn't catch the channel or time but I thought you might be interested in knowing about it. L.L.'

“Thank you, Lois,” Perry said aloud to the empty room. “Sylvia will enjoy these.” He removed a large envelope from his desk, addressed it, and placed the sheet of stamps inside. Licking the extra stamps, he affixed them to the outside so Sylvia would also have the canceled Elvis stamps she wanted. Perry called for a messenger and sent the package to the mail room, and Olson's film and notes to copy. After the flurry of activity, Perry sat still with his eyes closed, and tried to relax. His high blood pressure dictated he take frequent breaks. After about fifteen minutes he opened his eyes, when he realized none of the tension was leaving his body.

Perry's eyes fell on the note from Lois and he re-read the postscript. He thought, _an Elvis movie this afternoon? I don't think so_. Grabbing the morning edition of the _Planet_ from the side of his desk, he turned to the television listings and scanned the columns. _Hmm. At 2:00 p.m., on the Luthor Movie Channel is a listing for_ Elvis and Me. _I remember watching that made-for-TV movie when it first aired in 1988. It's not one of the King's movies, but it is an okay biography. That actor, Dale Midkiff, who plays Elvis in it does a pretty good job. Maybe I'll watch it, just to relax some_.

Perry looked at his watch and saw it was almost time for the show to begin. He walked to a closet in his office and opened the doors to reveal a television. Switching on the set, he started turning the dial, but before he got to the Luthor Movie Channel, something caught his ear. He stopped when he realized the strains of “Jailhouse Rock” were coming from the set.

A model was holding a figure of Elvis in each hand, and another was sitting on the table in front of her. The announcer described the items. “This twelve-inch, poseable Elvis doll is perfect for a child age seven and up, or that favorite collector in your life. Choose Teen Idol, '68 Special or Jailhouse Rock. They can be yours for only $39.99 each or $114.95 for all three. Call 1-800-555-5776 and ask for item number E2001. For fastest service, have your credit card ready, or send check or money order to the address on your screen. Sorry, no COD's.” As the pretty model moved the arms and legs on one of the dolls, the announcer continued, “This is LSN, the Luthor Shopping Network, bringing you twenty-four hours of home buying opportunities. Stay tuned. We'll be right back.”

When the commercial started, Perry walked to his desk. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet, then his credit card. He sat down to wait for the program to return so he could get the number to call in his order. Talking aloud to himself again, he said, “I wonder why in all my years of collecting Elvis things I never saw these figures before. They are so realistic-looking.” Perry decided he would buy all three figures and then watch for a while to see what else they had to offer.

* * * * * * 

Lois and Jimmy were inside the arena near the athletes' entrance. During the last three hours they had talked to hotel employees, athletes, coaches, and other guests not involved with the gymnastics event. Now, Lois was interviewing one of the competition officials. “Mr. Keleani, when did you first notice something unusual?”

“It was yesterday morning when my wife and I came back to our room after breakfast. We didn't have to be at work for about an hour, so she started watching television, one of those home shopping channels. After only a few minutes, she left to go get some coffee.” He paused, and then continued more quietly. “She never came back.”

“Where is your wife now?” Lois questioned.

Arnold Keleani pointed across the room to a woman checking athletes' credentials as they entered the building, “She's over there, working. Carol doesn't remember anything about yesterday, or the thousands of dollars she spent buying things.”

Using the lens on his camera to bring the woman into clearer view, Jimmy said, “I saw her in the lounge right after I arrived. She was one of the people fighting over the phone.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Keleani,” Lois said. “You've been very helpful.”

Lois and Jimmy walked over to Carol. “Hello, Mrs. Keleani. I'm Lois Lane with the _Daily Planet_. I was just talking to your husband and I'd like to ask you a few questions.”

Carol looked at the woman. “I'm really very busy right now. Could I talk to you later?”

Smiling to put the woman at ease, Lois said, “I have only a couple of questions. It won't take long.”

“Okay, what do you want to know?” Carol asked impatiently.

“Have you bought things from a home shopping network before?”

“No, never.”

“Do you know why you started buying so many things from LSN?”

“No.”

“What do you remember about yesterday morning?”

A look of bewilderment came over Carol's face. “I know my husband and I had breakfast in the hotel coffee shop, but I don't remember anything after we got back to our room.”

“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Keleani. Would it be all right if we spoke again later when you have more time?” Lois asked.

“Yes. We're in room 506.”

As they walked away, Lois asked Jimmy, “Is there anything in common with this woman and the others?”

“Not that I can figure out, but I know there has to be. Something is… Wait a minute, look over there.”

Lois turned in the direction Jimmy was pointing. Two men were talking and gesturing excitedly. “Let's go, Jimmy.” As they approached, they overheard part of the conversation.

“…didn't show up yesterday evening for her practice on the beam. This morning she couldn't, or wouldn't tell me why.”

“Roza is supposed to be here now for the floor exercise. I've not seen her and neither have any of the other girls on the team.”

“Excuse me, I'm Lois Lane and this is Jimmy Olson. We're with the _Daily Planet_. May we ask you some questions?”

The shorter man extended his hand, “Hola, I'm Julian Esquivel, coach of the Spanish team and this is my good friend Joe Mann, American coach.”

“You were saying some of your athletes didn't show up? Have they ever done this before?” Lois asked.

“Never,” the men said in unison. Mr. Esquivel continued, “Roza Lopez has never missed a practice session or a competition in the eight years I've been her coach.”

“Do you have any idea why they aren't here?” Jimmy questioned.

Shaking his head, the American coach said, “Not a clue. This competition is very important to Sandy for a lot of reasons. It just doesn't make any sense.”

“Do they know each other?” Lois asked.

“No.”

“Do the two of them have anything in common?”

“Nothing I know about.”

“Do you know where they are now?”

The American coach pointed, “Sandy is over there on the beam. She doesn't remember anything about yesterday afternoon.”

The Spanish coach said, “Roza isn't here and I'm worried because her competition starts in less than an hour.”

“Thank you for your help,” Lois said. As they walked away, Lois dipped her head towards the young woman on the balance beam, “We'll talk to her later and see what she can tell us, but if she's like Mrs. Keleani it won't be much.” Lois looked at Jimmy as they walked towards the arena exit. “Well, you were right, something just doesn't add up.”

“Glad to hear you think so, too,” Jimmy said. “Let's go to the coffee shop so you can see the strangeness in there.”

Entering the lounge, Lois and Jimmy looked at the dozen or so people intently watching the big screen television. Pointing, Lois said, “That woman on the couch wearing the Spanish team uniform could be Roza Lopez. I talked to her briefly this morning in the lobby.” Lois approached the woman and asked, “¿Es usted, Roza Lopez?”

Briefly glancing at the stranger standing beside her, she said “Si,” then continued to stare at the screen.

Lois turned to Jimmy. “I don't think we're going to get any answers here. This poor woman doesn't even understand English, yet she still sits and watches.”

“Something is definitely wrong with this picture,” Jimmy agreed.

As they walked from the lounge, Lois said, “It's getting late. Let's go have lunch, review what we've learned so far, and then call the Chief.”

* * * * * * 

George Fox pushed down the phone hook with his hand to disconnect the line and sat for a moment holding the receiver. In the past several hours, he'd called most of the papers that had Superman coverage, but hadn't gotten much useful information. Pulling the _Daily Planet_ from the pile, he turned to the publishing detail for the phone number. As he dialed, he mumbled to himself, “I saved this one until last because it appears to be the most promising. They have the most frequent and the most extensive coverage of this alien threat.”

“ _Daily Planet_ , may I help you?” the receptionist asked.

“This is George Fox with the Federal Security Agency. I need to speak to the person in charge.”

“That would be our editor, Mr. White. I'll connect you.”

Fox drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited.

Julie put Fox on hold, and then pressed the intercom button labeled White. It rang several times with no response. Disconnecting from the intercom, Julie again spoke to Fox. “I'm sorry sir, but the editor seems to be out of his office. May I take a message?”

“No! I have to talk to him, now. You locate him for me.”

“But, sir, I don't know where he is. He's not answering the intercom.”

“I don't care what you have to do, you find him for me.”

“Okay, I'll try something else.” Knowing the editor was often on the newsroom floor, she disconnected from Fox and pushed the button labeled Kent. After only two rings, she heard a response.

“Kent here.”

“Hello, Mr. Kent. This is Julie in reception. Is Mr. White in the newsroom? He has a call.”

“No, he's not. I think he's in his office.”

“He didn't answer.” Julie frowned and wondered what to try next. “Would you go see if he's available? The man on the line is very insistent he talk to the person in charge.”

“Sure, just a minute.” Clark put down the phone and went to the editor's office. He knocked once, then opened the door and looked in. Clark didn't know quite what to make of the sight that greeted him. Perry sat behind his desk with a big smile on his face, a credit card and several pieces of paper scattered in front of him.

Clark focused for a moment on the television across room. “…ask for item number X233. For fastest service, have your credit card ready, or send check or money order to the address on your screen. Sorry, no COD's.” As the pretty model held up a book about fly fishing, the announcer continued, “This is LSN, the Luthor Shopping Network, bringing you twenty-four hours of home buying…” Frowning slightly, Clark closed the door and approached the desk.

“Chief, you have a phone call.”

Perry barely looked up as he scowled and said, “Not now, Kent, can't you see I'm busy?”

Clark raised his eyebrows, peered down at the Chief, then turned again to the television. When he saw his boss pick up the phone and begin dialing the number scribbled on the paper in front of him, it was obvious he wasn't going to take the call. Clark left the room, went back to his desk, and picked up the receiver.

“Julie, Mr. White is…busy. Sorry.”

“Okay, I'll tell the man.” Breaking the connection with the newsroom, Julie picked up again with George Fox. “Sir, our editor is busy. May I take a message?”

This wasn't what Fox wanted to hear. Almost growling, he asked, “Is there anyone else there who can talk to me about your Superman coverage? This is important, a matter of national security.”

“No, Mr. White is the only one.”

Fox looked down at the paper and saw the name of the reporter who had written the front page article. “What about this Lois Lane? Is she there?”

Taking a deep breath to control her temper, Julie said, “No, she's out of town on assignment.”

“Well, there has to be someone there who knows something. Find them for me.”

“I'll see what I can do, sir. Please hold,” Julie said with more restraint than she felt. After she put the rude man on hold again, Julie pushed the button labeled Kent.

“Kent here.”

“Mr. Kent, this man insists he has to talk to someone about Superman. Do you want to take the call?”

“No, Julie. I don't know anything about Superman. I can't help him.”

“Okay, thanks,” Julie said a silent prayer for patience before reconnecting with the man on the line. “I'm sorry, sir, there is no one available. Would you like to leave a message?”

Fox fumed, but finally managed to say, “No. I'll try back later.” Slamming the phone into its cradle Fox yelled, “Wylie, get in here!” A few seconds after the words left his mouth Fox realized his assistant couldn't have heard him. He picked up the phone and punched the intercom button. When Wylie answered, Fox said, “Make reservations for us on the first shuttle flight available to Metropolis. We should be able to be there in less than two hours.”

“But, Mr. Fox, we don't…”

“I don't care that we don't have authorization. We're going.” He turned to stare at the photos on his wall. “I've got to stop this new threat to humanity before he contacts the other alien.”

 

Clark saw Paul watching him as he hung up the phone. “Yes? You have a question?”

Looking around first to be sure no one else could hear, Paul asked quietly, “Does it ever bother you to have to lie?”

“No, not about that. No matter what I say about Superman, eventually I have to lie.”

Paul nodded. “Yes, I've learned the same thing, but I don't like it.”

“Neither do I,” Clark said, “but sometimes, you just can't be completely truthful and keep a secret.”

“I try my best to always be honest.” Paul paused. “There have been times, however, when I've had to say untrue things, to keep us safe. I…”

The phone rang again. Clark laughed, “I guess the guy is persistent.” He picked up the receiver and said, “Kent here.”

“Clark, it's Lois. I need to talk to the Chief, but Julie said he's not answering his phone. Is he in his office?”

“Yes.”

“Would you get him for me?”

“I'll try, but I don't think he'll talk to you.”

“Why not?”

“I was in his office just a few minutes ago, and he wasn't paying attention to anything except the television.”

“The television?” Lois questioned, and then remembered the note she'd written. “Oh, yeah, I mentioned an Elvis movie to him that's on this afternoon.”

“Elvis? He's not watching Elvis, he's watching some shopping network.” After several seconds of silence on the line, Clark asked, “Lois, are you there?” Listening with his super-hearing, Clark heard Lois's breath quicken and her heartbeat speed up. “Lois, what's the matter? Talk to me!”

Gulping in a big breath, she finally managed to say, “Are you sure he's watching LSN?”

Clark thought for a moment, and then said, “You're right, he's watching LSN, but I didn't tell you that. How'd you know?”

“Jimmy and I have been talking to people all day who have been watching LSN or who know people who've been watching LSN. It's like an addiction up here and now you tell me the Chief's doing it too. Like Jimmy said, something weird is going on.”

“But what connection can there be between the Chief and the people up there? It's not like he could have eaten the same food or drank the water.”

The picture of Roza Lopez licking the Elvis stamps entered Lois's mind like a lightning bolt. “Go into the Chief's office and see if the Elvis stamps I sent him are still there.”

“Stamps?” Clark raised his eyebrows, and then continued, “What have stamps got to do with anything?”

“Just do it, Clark,” Lois said adamantly. “They were in the courier packet. See if they are still there or if he's already used them.”

Clark lifted his free hand in a gesture of resignation and said, “All right, all right, I'll do it, but I don't know what stamps have to do with the Chief' watching LSN.” He put the receiver on the desk and went into Perry's office. Since the editor didn't even know he'd entered the room, Clark first looked on the surface of the desk, and then used his x-ray vision to scan the piles on the top and the contents of the drawers.

Returning to the phone, he said, “I saw the empty package Perry received earlier this morning, but there aren't any stamps anywhere on his desk.”

Lois shouted, “I knew it! He's already used them and now he's hooked too. We have to find out what is on those stamps. Jimmy and I will be in Metropolis as soon as we can get there, probably sometime between six and seven. Keep an eye on the Chief until we arrive and find out how long he watches LSN. See you when we get back.”

“Lois, wait. Tell me…” Clark realized he was talking to a dial tone. He turned to Paul and shook his head. “That woman wasn't making any sense. What have stamps, the Chief, and the Luthor Shopping Network got to do with each other?”

“I'm sure I wouldn't know.” Paul paused for a moment, and then asked, “What's the Luthor Shopping Network?”

* * * * * * 

Lois hung up the phone and turned to Jimmy. “I'm going to go find some of the people we talked to, and ask them one more question. Then, we have to get back to Metropolis. Do you think your friends at Star Labs will do an analysis for us tonight?”

“An analysis of what?”

“Didn't you hear anything I told Clark? We have to get those Elvis stamps analyzed because if I'm right, they're what's causing all this craziness. Do you think they'll do it?”

“I'm sure it won't be a problem. I'll call and make arrangements to drop them off.” He frowned. “But Lois, we do have a problem.”

“What now?” she asked impatiently.

“We don't have any of the stamps.”

“Don't you think I know that? You make your call. I'm going to buy them now.”

As the excited woman walked away, Jimmy picked up the phone and started making his call.

 

“You want what?” the gift shop clerk asked.

Lois put her credit card on the counter and said as calmly as she could, “I want to buy all the Elvis stamps you have.”

“You can't do that. We wouldn't have anything left to sell,” the exasperated clerk sputtered.

“That's the id….” Deciding it best not to tell the man she wanted to buy all the stamps specifically to keep anyone else from getting them, she took a different approach. “My friend and I belong to an Elvis fan club and we're making some…” Lois thought frantically, trying to think of something that made sense. Remembering the last political convention she attended, she said, “…buttons.”

The clerk eyed the attractive young woman. “Well, I don't know.”

“Come on, I have the money. You can't refuse me.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he said, “Okay, okay already. If I get rid of these now, at least I won't have to explain to angry people why this is the only stamp I have.” Muttering as he opened the drawer, “I'll just have to explain to angry people why I don't have any stamps.”

Lois smiled sweetly and pushed the credit card towards the man. “Thank you, very much.” When the man started to place all the stamps in the same envelope, Lois asked, “Would you separate those into two groups please? My friend and I each…”

“Yeah, yeah, okay lady. Anything you want.”

 

Carrying the two packages of stamps carefully, Lois met Jimmy in the hotel lobby. “Did you get through to Star Labs?”

“Yes, but Larry said since it'll be so late when we get back tonight, they won't be able to start the analysis until tomorrow. Only a few people work over the weekend, but he said he'd be sure we got what we needed.”

“Good. Did you ask them to fax their results to us at the _Planet_ as soon as they know anything?”

Jimmy nodded.

“Great! Now, let's get on the road.” Lois handed Jimmy one of the envelopes of stamps and said, “Be careful with these. Don't get fingerprints on them, or contaminate them in any way. Take them directly to the lab, and then come to the _Planet_. Clark is waiting for us there and we need to see what's happening with the Chief.”

“Right. See you soon.”

* * * * * * 

Cat walked up to Clark's desk and looked over both Paul and Clark approvingly. Smiling broadly, she purred, “Time to go home, fellows.”

Unsure if Paul would understand the double meaning in Cat's statement, Clark jumped in. “We can't leave yet, Cat.”

She put her finger under Clark's chin and bent over, displaying her cleavage to best advantage. Raising his face to hers, she asked “Why not? The three of us could go to my place and have some 'real' fun.”

“We're waiting for Lois and Jimmy to get back,” Clark said.

“Her!” Cat pulled her hand away and stood erect. “Why are you waiting for her?” Before he could answer, Cat moved a few steps around the desk to where Paul sat. “Surely you're not waiting for her too?”

Startled when this woman from Forrester's past plopped into his lap, Paul didn't know what to say. His face was level with her breasts which were barely covered by her halter top. “I'm…I'm staying with Clark.”

“But wouldn't a night with me be more fun?” She ran her fingers through his hair. “We can talk about those special times we spent together, and make more special memories.”

Paul grabbed her wrists just as she started to embrace him, and pushed her back. “I really don't remember you, Miss Grant.” With a Forrester smirk on his face, he continued, “I guess the times weren't so special for me.” Keeping hold of her so she wouldn't fall, Paul stood to make Cat slip off his lap.

Cat scrambled to her feet and looked up into Paul's face. “You won't come home with me, then?”

“No, I have to go home to my son.”

Cat opened her eyes wide and exclaimed, “Your what?”

“My son, Scott. He's seventeen.”

“Paul Forrester, a family man?” Cat stepped back and pulled her arms away from Paul. “I don't believe it!”

“Why not? It's true.”

“I never thought I'd see the day when you'd get married and settle down.” Cat shook her head and walked away without allowing Paul to say anything more.

After Cat entered the elevator, Clark laughed. “I think you handled that well.”

“I hope I didn't hurt her feelings. She's lonely and confused.” Paul stared at the closed doors of the elevator for a moment, and then said quietly, “She needs a friend.”

“Cat? Lonely?” Clark raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, during the time I held her I felt a lot of mixed emotions, but mostly a very sad young woman.” After several minutes of quiet, Paul said, “Speaking of my son, Scott will be wondering where I am. It's getting late.”

“You don't have to stay with me to wait for Lois. You can take a taxi back to the apartment.”

“I'd really like to stay and get to know your Lois better, but I do want to call Scott.”

Clark picked up the phone, dialed his home number and handed the receiver to Paul. After ten rings and no answer, Paul's look of concern needed no words. Taking the phone from his friend, and hanging it up, Clark said, “I'm sure Scott's all right. He's probably just afraid to answer the phone in a strange place. Let me try again.”

When the second call went unanswered, Paul said anxiously “I've got to go to him. Now,” Paul stood and started to run towards the elevator.

Clark was out of his seat and had his hand on Paul's arm before he'd gone two steps. “Let me go. I can be there and back before you could get a taxi.”

Knowing the truth of that statement didn't make Paul feel any better. “Hurry, please.”

“Watch Perry for me, okay?”

Paul glanced towards the closed door. “Okay.”

 

Clark landed on the balcony of his apartment and saw Scott sitting on the couch with a blue object in his hand. Recognizing the energy sphere his guests had described, Clark watched silently as Scott concentrated. A book lay open on the table, its pages turning slowly. After a few minutes, Scott closed his hand over the sphere and shut off its light. Next he raised his head, looked at the television and pointed with one hand. Clark first saw the set turn on, then change channels, then turn off. When Scott sat back and closed his eyes, Clark took advantage of this brief lull, opened the door and entered the room. Speaking quietly he said, “Hello, Scott.”

When he heard Clark's voice behind him, Scott jumped up from the couch and yelled, “You scared me! I didn't hear you…” As he turned to face the man, he saw Superman standing there and realized why he'd not heard anything. “…come in.” Even though he knew Clark was this special being, seeing him in the suit for the first time was still quite a surprise. Gulping a few times, Scott finally managed to say, “Oh, I guess you didn't come through the front door, huh?”

Clark grinned broadly to put Scott at ease. He walked over and placed his hands on the young man's shoulders. “No, I didn't. Sorry if I scared you.”

“Nah, you didn't, really,” Scott smiled weakly, embarrassed at his reaction.

“Good. Did you hear the phone a little while ago?”

Shaking his head, Scott said, “No.”

“I guess you were really concentrating as you practiced with your sphere.”

“You saw me?” Scott asked hesitantly.

“Only a little.” It didn't take special abilities to sense the wariness in the young man. “Don't be upset. I know you have to practice to develop your powers. It took time for me to learn to control my strength so I wouldn't hurt people or damage things, and I had to learn how to use my x-ray vision so I could see just what I wanted.” Clark laughed at a memory. “But I had the most trouble with my heat vision. I didn't think I'd ever figure out how to send the burst with just the right amount of intensity to do what I wanted without burning everything up.”

As he visualized a young Clark out behind the barn learning to use his powers, Scott joined Clark in laughter. “I know what you mean about that. Sometimes when I use the sphere, its power gets away from me and I create lights in the sky, or set something on fire that I only wanted to warm.”

“That's right. We each have inherited special abilities, but we have to learn to use them just like anyone else.”

Thinking for a moment about what Clark had said, Scott frowned, “You said the phone rang. Did you try to call?”

“Your father did. He wanted to check in with you, and when you didn't answer he was worried so I came to see if you were all right.”

Scott shrugged. “Well, as you can see, I'm just fine.”

“Would you like to go to the _Planet_ with me? I have to get back before Lois arrives.”

“Could I?”

“Sure. We'll fly and can be there in just a few minutes.”

“Yo-ho, fantastic!”

“Wait just a minute while I call your father and tell him we're coming, then we'll be able to take our time getting back.”

* * * * * * 

George Fox grumbled at Wylie. “It's a conspiracy I tell you! Those aliens have banded together to keep us from getting to Metropolis at a reasonable time.”

“What do you mean, sir?” Wylie asked.

“We've been circling the Metropolis airport for almost an hour, 'Traffic is stacked up' the pilot says.”

“But sir, he explained some of the runways are out of service because a jet blew a tire on takeoff. They've got to land all the planes on only part of their facility. We're lucky the airport is open at all.”

“Lucky! Hah! It took us hours to get out of Washington. We could have driven to Metropolis in two.”

“Not at rush hour, Mr. Fox.”

“Well, three then! We'd still be there by now!” Fox shouted.

Wylie looked down, then turned back to his boss and smiled excitedly. “But it only took the Flyer shuttle forty-five minutes to get us to National airport. Normal rush hour time could have been an hour longer, but since it's Friday there wasn't as much traffic.”

“Yes. All those 'dedicated' government employees leave work early on Friday instead of staying and doing their jobs.” Sitting quietly for a few moments, Fox continued to grouse. “That lightning strike that knocked out the radar, communications and electricity at National right after we arrived could have been caused by the alien.”

Wylie looked at his excited boss and said, “A thunderstorm passed over the airport just as we got off the shuttle. Don't you remember getting wet in the rain?”

Fox frowned and continued to complain. “Yes. Now, I suppose you're going to tell me the rain caused the delay in getting to the Baltimore airport?”

“Why yes, Mr. Fox. The backup on the Beltway was worse than normal, because drivers had to slow down so they could see through the downpour. We got to the other airport as fast as the bus could go. Don't you think it was nice of the airline to furnish a bus to take us to Baltimore? We might have been left sitting in the dark terminal for hours.”

“What I want to know is why they took us to Baltimore. Dulles is a lot closer to National.”

“Mr. Fox, this airline doesn't have a terminal at Dulles. We had to go to Baltimore or we would have had to change our tickets. That would have taken even longer.”

Fox sighed. “I suppose I should be thankful we finally got into the air, but I don't know why we couldn't have gotten to the airport ten minutes earlier. We wouldn't have had to wait on the next plane to leave.”

Wylie grinned broadly. “But we only sat there thirty-five minutes before we were on the plane and the flight here was really quick. I almost didn't have time to drink my orange juice.”

Looking at his watch, then turning to his always optimistic assistant, Fox said, “If we ever get on the ground, it'll be after eight and no one important will be at the newspaper office. We'll just have to go in tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mr. Fox. Do you want me to get us hotel rooms for tonight, or will we be going back to Washington?”

“I'm not going home until I talk to someone about this new alien threat,” Fox said angrily. “Now, be quiet and let me think.”

* * * * * * 

After a slow flight over the city, Clark landed in an alley a few blocks from the _Daily Planet_ and placed Scott on the ground.

“Whoa! That was great!” Scott exclaimed.

“Glad you liked it.” Disappearing for less than a second, Clark returned in a business suit.

Wrinkling his forehead, Scott said, “I don't think I'll ever get used to that.”

Clark laughed and slapped Scott on the back. “Well, I hope you can stay long enough so you do.” Walking along the sidewalk, each young man had almost identical thoughts. _I never thought I'd have a friend who is like me. To be able to talk with someone who understands what it's like to be different is very special_.

As they entered the lobby of the _Daily Planet_ , Clark saw Lois coming in from the side door and moved to intercept her, motioning for Scott to follow. “Hello, Lois. It didn't take you long to get here.”

“It's been almost three hours. Where've you been? I thought I asked you to wait for me? What kind of partner are you anyway?”

Rolling his eyes, Clark said, “Three hours is a long time to wait. What's so urgent? I wasn't gone that long.”

“Yes, I suppose that's true, but what if you'd been delayed? After all, you're not as fast as Superman.”

Clark glanced first at Scott then back to Lois, pointedly ignoring her remark. “This is Scott, Paul's son. I went to get him.”

Lois shook hands with Scott. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Scott said. “I've heard a lot about you, Miss Lane.”

Lois frowned at Clark, wondering what he'd been saying about her. “Well, at least you're back now. We've got work to do. Come on.” She turned on her heel and walked towards the elevator.

Before following her, Clark shrugged his shoulders and exchanged a look with Scott.

Exiting the elevator into the newsroom, Scott immediately saw his father and rushed down the ramp. “Dad! I got to…uh…er, I missed you today.” He covered his near slip by hugging his father.

Lois watched the exchange with interest as she walked slowly down the ramp. _Those two really seem to care for each other_ , she thought. _It isn't often you see a teenage boy who's so close to his father_. Lois thought of her own stormy relationship with her parents. _I don't like to admit it, but I envy Clark's closeness with his parents, and now I see the same thing between Paul and Scott. I haven't felt any affection from my father since I was very young. All he ever did was criticize me. I guess that's why it isn't only teenagers who become estranged from their families_.

Turning away from the happy scene, Lois dumped her bag on her desk and went directly to Perry's office. She looked through the glass and said, “Clark, I thought I asked you to watch him. Has he done anything except watch television?”

Paul jumped into the conversation, “When Clark left to go get Scott, I stayed here to keep an eye on Mr. White. He hasn't moved since you called.”

“Well, that's consistent with what Jimmy and I found in Oneonta.”

“What exactly did you find?” Clark asked.

Walking to her desk, Lois pulled the Elvis stamps from her bag and handed them to Clark. “I don't know how yet, but anyone who licks these gets hooked on LSN and buys everything they offer. We interviewed dozens of people, many of them athletes who've dedicated their whole lives to their sport, and all of them had become addicted to the shopping channel.”

“But how do you know it's the stamps?” Clark asked.

“After you told me the Chief was watching LSN, and that he'd used the stamps I sent him from the hotel, I went back and talked to as many of the people who had been hooked as I could find. All of them had bought stamps and mailed letters within an hour of beginning to watch LSN. What I need to know now is what is in the adhesive.”

“You should have that answer by noon tomorrow.” All eyes turned to see Jimmy coming out of the elevator. “My friends at Star Labs will give us whatever they find by then.”

“Excellent!” Lois exclaimed.

Paul wrinkled his forehead and asked, “But don't you still need to know where the stamps were made?”

Noticing the two strangers for the first time, Jimmy said, “You're right. While I was at Star Labs I asked if there was a way for them to tell where the stamps were printed.”

“And can they?” Lois questioned.

“No. There's nothing on the stamp that shows the printer.”

“Doesn't the government make all the stamps, like they do the money?” Scott asked.

Jimmy looked at the young man, and wondered who he was. “No. Lots of private sector printers make stamps.”

Taking the stamps from Clark, Lois demanded, “Then how can we trace these back to their source?”

“That information is available from the post office,” Jimmy responded.

“All right then, let's call them.” Lois reached for the phone.

Clark grabbed her arm. “Lois, it's almost eight o'clock. There won't be anyone there.”

“Sure there is. The post office is open all night.”

“Maybe it is, but the people who work at night won't be able to give you answers.”

Lois knew he was right. “Okay, but I'll call first thing in the morning.”

“Assuming you're right about the stamps, what I'd like to know is, who's behind this?” Clark asked. “It just doesn't make any sense to drug a random group of people.”

Lois shrugged her shoulders. “It has to be a power or money-making scheme of some kind. There are a lot of ruthless, corrupt, and vicious people out there. Join the real world, Kent. You're not in Kansas anymore.”

Paul raised his eyebrows and said, “No, we're not. But why should it make a difference? Aren't people the same everywhere?” When everyone turned to stare at him, Paul knew he shouldn't have asked the question.

After several seconds of awkward silence, Clark walked over to the editor's office. In an attempt to gloss over Paul's question, he responded to Lois. “Yeah, I suppose you're right, but we'll just have to wait until tomorrow to get any answers. Do you know how long this addiction lasts?”

“I don't know, exactly,” Lois replied, moving to Clark's side. “It seemed to affect different people in different ways. Maybe it has something to do with how much of the stuff the person gets into their system. Almost everyone, though, became angry and upset if the television was turned off or someone tried to make them stop watching.”

“What are we going to do about the Chief?” Clark asked. “It's a sure thing we can't leave him alone, or send him home to his wife. He needs to be with someone who understands, and can keep him away from the television. That has to be one of us. I'd take him home with me tonight, but Paul and Scott are already staying at my place.”

“Paul and Scott?” Jimmy questioned. _The man looks familiar_ , Jimmy thought, _but I can't place him_.

“Oh,” Clark said, “Jimmy, I'm sorry. You weren't here this morning when Paul was introduced. Jimmy Olson, this is Paul Forrester, and his son, Scott.”

Jimmy stammered as he took the offered hand, “Paul Forrester, the photographer? The Pulitzer Prize winning, Paul Forrester? The _In the Eye of the Storm_ , Paul Forrester?”

Paul wondered how much this man knew about his predecessor as he said, “Yes, that Paul Forrester.”

“Wow! I'm Jimmy Olson, would-be famous photojournalist, but you're the real thing.”

“Well, not really. I just take pictures and people seem to like them.”

“You're working here now?” Jimmy asked hesitantly.

Paul felt the young man's unease. He smiled reassuringly and said, “I'm only going to be here long enough to help while the staff is short-handed. I'm not here to take away your job.”

Wondering how this man he'd just met knew what he'd been thinking, Jimmy responded, “I'm very happy to finally meet you.”

Paul felt Jimmy relax as he released the young man's hand. “I'm happy to meet you, too.”

“I've admired your work ever since we studied your photographs in one of my college courses. I hope we have a chance to work together while you're here.”

“Me, too. And Jimmy, if you work hard, someday you could be greater than Paul Forrester ever was.”

“If you two are finished with the mutual admiration society,” Lois interrupted, “we have a problem to solve. We still have to figure out what to do about the Chief. Based upon the interviews I did with the people in Oneonta, he'll want to watch LSN for anywhere from six to twelve hours. We can't leave him here.”

“I'll take him home with me,” Jimmy said, “but first we have to get him away from the television set.”

“I don't think that will be a problem,” Paul stated confidently. “Let me handle it.” Walking to the office door, Paul turned before entering and exchanged a meaningful glance with Clark and Scott. “One of you call his wife and let her know he won't be home tonight.”

Clark knew Paul wanted privacy in the editor's office, so he steered Lois back to her desk. “You have the Chief's home phone number in your files, don't you?”

“Yes. I'll call Alice and tell her…something.”

Scott also understood his father's need for privacy. He approached Jimmy and asked, “So, you're a photographer. I've helped my dad some with his work. Tell me about some of the things you've done.”

When Clark and Scott had Lois and Jimmy occupied, Paul entered the editor's office and quietly closed the door. First placing a hand on the man's shoulder, he took out the sphere and activated it. Because he didn't know enough about this addiction to eliminate the problem, Paul decided to simply tranquilize Mr. White so when he was removed from the television he wouldn't become agitated.

After only a few minutes, Paul closed his hand over the sphere, doused its light and put it back into his pocket. Pointing at the television, he turned it off, then guided the editor out of his chair and walked him into the newsroom.

“What did you do to him?” Lois asked. “He looks kind of out of it.”

“It's sort of like hypnosis,” Paul said. “He needs to stay calm until the addiction wears off. We don't want him to start watching television again once he gets to Jimmy's place.”

Jimmy laughed, “Well, on that point we're safe. I don't have a set in my apartment. For a while I had cable, but there never was anything on worth watching, so I had it disconnected and gave the television to a friend.”

“Good. That means the Chief should be safe with you tonight,” Clark stated. Yawning, he continued, “It's late and I think we should all go home.”

“Yes, I suppose you're right,” Lois sighed. “But it's hard for me to let go of something when I'm so close to an answer.”

As the six people headed towards the elevator, Clark said under his breath so no one could hear, “Isn't that the truth?”

###    
**Saturday, May 17**  


As he awoke slowly without the alarm, Clark focused on the clock. “Hmm,” he mumbled to himself, “it's already seven. I guess I'd better get moving.” Quickly taking a shower, then dressing, he emerged into the living area of his apartment. Seeing the couch and Scott's bed roll both empty, Clark looked around to find his guests. When he located them on the balcony, he stopped to get cups and the fixings for three servings of hot chocolate before he joined them.

“Hello, you two. You certainly beat me out of bed this morning.”

“I had to prove to my son I wasn't a lazy-bones,” Paul laughed. “But really, we haven't been out here long.”

While Clark prepared the hot chocolate in his own unique way, he said, “Good. I wouldn't want you to think I was ignoring my friends.”

Scott took the offered cup of steaming liquid. “We're just glad to be here and never would think anything like that.”

Placing a cup in front of Paul, then sitting, Clark's look sobered. “Actually, I am going to have to leave you guys for a while today. I hope you don't mind.”

Paul shook his head. “Not at all. I'm sure we can find something to do in a city this big.”

Clark smiled in relief. “I'd like to stay and show you around, but I've got to go home. Mom is planning a small birthday celebration for me and I can't disappoint her.”

“Today's your birthday?” Scott grinned broadly.

The smile left Clark's face. Gazing off into the distance for a moment, he finally turned back to look deeply into Scott's eyes. “Not really. We don't know when I was born.”

Paul wrinkled his forehead. “But you said your mother was having a party for you today. Doesn't that mean it's your birthday?”

“No. Dad and Mom found my spaceship on May 17 and we've always celebrated on that day.” Clark took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “A few years back, I began to realize why I never felt happy on my 'birthday'. It just reminds me that I was abandoned. It makes me think about all the things I don't know about myself. I can't really say, 'Oh, May 17, that's my birthday'. It isn't my birthday! It was made up.”

Paul felt the younger man's distress when he put his hand on Clark's arm. “But shouldn't you think of it as a celebration of being found by a family who loves you?”

“I suppose so, and I do. I just feel empty sometimes.”

“Don't you think that's natural?” Paul asked.

“I know it is, but it doesn't make it any easier.” Thinking for a minute, Clark laughed, “I guess in a lot of ways most people would envy me.”

“Why?” Scott asked.

“We also celebrate on July 31st, because that's when my parents got the final adoption papers. They knew some lawyer who pulled strings and managed to push things through quickly. They wanted to have legal proof I was theirs, in case the government men who investigated the landing of my ship came back. They didn't want to answer a lot of embarrassing questions about where I came from.”

“You have two birthdays?” Scott exclaimed.

Shrugging his shoulders, Clark looked at him sheepishly. “I guess you could say that.”

“I don't think the day, or number of days you have a party is what is important,” Paul said. “It's the fact you have people who care for you that really counts.”

“I know that.” After a few minutes of silence, Clark stood up. “Well, I'm going to have to fly soon. I'm supposed to be in Smallville in a little while. I'll leave the two of you to get your own breakfast.”

The three of them moved inside, and Clark disappeared for a second. When he returned in the Superman suit, he said, “I'll be back by the mid-afternoon. Maybe we'll be able to do something then.”

“Tell your parents hi for us,” Paul said.

“Yeah, tell them I really miss them,” Scott added.

As he walked out onto the balcony, Clark said, “I'll do that.” Reaching into the morning sky, he flew away in a red, blue and yellow streak.

* * * * * * 

Lois entered the newsroom and dropped her bag on the desk. She went immediately to the fax and was disappointed to find the receiving tray empty. When she looked at her watch and saw it was only a little after eight, she decided to have some coffee while waiting for the Star Labs report to arrive. Moving to the machine she soon realized since it was early on Saturday, there wasn't any made. Intent upon making the coffee, Lois didn't hear the elevator nor the two men coming toward her.

“Miss, may I ask you some questions?” the shorter man said.

Lois jumped and almost dropped the coffee pot as she placed it on the burner. “You scared me! What are you doing here?”

As he took a badge from his inner pocket and held it open for the woman to see, the short, balding man said, “I'm George Fox with the Federal Security Agency.” He pointed to the tall, muscular man with him and said, “This is Agent Wylie. I'd like to ask someone a few questions about this alien creature you're calling Superman.”

Lois frowned. She didn't like this man's tone. She turned on the coffee maker and asked abruptly, “What do you want to know about Superman?”

Fox recognized the defensiveness in the woman's tone and decided against calling the creature an 'it'. “He is an alien, isn't he? From another planet?”

“Yes, the planet Krypton.”

“Have you known him long?”

“Not long, but I was one of the first people to meet and talk to him.”

“Do you know how to contact him?”

“No, but he's always there when I need him.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Absolutely!”

“Why?”

“Because he's…he's wonderful.”

Fox realized it was going to be difficult to talk rationally with this woman, since she was another one of those deluded people who had been taken in by these aliens. “I'm sorry, I didn't get your name?”

“I'm Lois Lane.”

“Miss Lane, yes. I've read your articles about Superman. They are quite good, though they do seem somewhat biased.”

“I only report what I see,” Lois responded brusquely.

Smelling the freshly brewed coffee, Fox asked, “I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot. What do you say we have a cup of that coffee and talk about Superman?”

“I suppose that will be all right, but I have to warn you, my sources are protected by the First Amendment.”

“I'm not going to ask you to incriminate anyone, Miss Lane.” Fox attempted a smile. “I just want information.”

“How do you take your coffee?” Lois asked as she picked up the pot. She continued to stare at the man and wondered why she didn't trust him. Something about his manner told her to be careful.

“Black is fine. Thank you.”

“What about you?” Lois asked Wylie.

“Nothing for me, ma'am. Thank you.”

Motioning them to follow, Lois walked to her desk and sat down.

Fox took a swallow of the coffee and decided it had to be decaf. As he followed the woman across the room he thought, _Why do people drink this stuff? It just isn't real coffee_.

“Now, what can I help you with?” Lois asked.

* * * * * * 

“That was a good breakfast, Dad.”

“Thank you, Scott. Actually, I've read that bacon and eggs aren't a healthy breakfast.” He chuckled. “However, I've found lots of the foods that taste good, are thought to be bad for you.”

Scott paused for a moment, as he gathered the dishes from the table. “That's for sure.”

Putting the milk and juice back in the refrigerator, Paul said, “Besides, Clark didn't have a lot of choices for me to pick from. It seems he's not into healthy eating.”

“Yeah, I know. We talked about that yesterday. We decided our choice of 'cuisine' is very similar.”

“Well, for him I suppose it doesn't make any difference, but for you, and me—now that I'm in this human body—it just might.” As he helped Scott place the last of the dishes into the sink, Paul asked, “Do you want me to wash or dry?”

“I can do them alone, Dad. Why don't you look at the newspaper and see if there's anything interesting we could do. I don't want to sit here all day like I did yesterday.”

While Scott washed the dishes, Paul called out various exhibits and events listed in the _Daily Planet'_ s “Things to Do in Metropolis” column. Nothing met with Scott's approval. “You're sure hard to please, Scott. What about an exhibit at the Metropolis Zoo showcasing a visiting koala from Australia and a kiwi from New Zealand?”

“Ah, Dad, that sounds too much like school.”

“Yes, and speaking of school, if we're going to stay in Metropolis we need to get you registered.”

“Dad, not now, okay? Besides there's not much more than a month left in this term.”

“I know that, but you need to be in school.”

Scott frowned at his father. “Can we talk about things to do now, please?”

“All right, but I still think the zoo would be a good place to visit. It would be educational and we could both learn a lot.”

“I don't want to learn anything, I want to have fun. What do you say we go shopping and find something to give Clark for his birthday and to say thank you for letting us stay here?”

“That sounds like a good idea, but we don't have much money. We need to find our own place to stay if we're going to be in Metropolis very long, and we'll need money for that.”

“I don't think Clark minds us being here,” Scott responded quietly.

Understanding Scott's developing close relationship with their new friend, Paul walked over to his son and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I'm sure he doesn't, but it just isn't right for us to continue to put this burden on him. Besides, if Fox were to find us, it would put Clark, and Superman, in danger. We can't do that.”

Scott knew his father was right, and looked down dejectedly. “Well, can we at least buy him a little something?”

Paul slapped his son on the back and said, “Sure, let's go see what's out there.” Neither father nor son heard the phone start ringing as they left the apartment.

* * * * * * 

Lois thought she heard the fax come on, but couldn't be sure because George Fox just kept talking and asking questions.

“Miss Lane, have you ever heard of, or met, a Jason Trask?”

“Yes, and I'll thank you to not mention that man's name in my presence. Now, I think you'd better leave,” Lois responded brusquely.

Taken aback at the sudden change in the woman's attitude, Fox said, “I'm sorry I upset you. Why does that name make you so angry?”

Lois stood. Barely able to control her temper, she said, “For the last hour, you've been trying to get me to say something against Superman! You've asked the same questions over and over, in different ways trying to trick me into saying something which would prove your theories that he's a threat to humanity! Well I can tell you it's Jason Trask who's the threat, not Superman!”

Still puzzled by the deep anger in the woman's voice, Fox asked, “Why do you say that?”

“Jason Trask pushed Clark Kent and me out of an airplane at 20,000 feet without a parachute because he wanted to lure Superman into a trap. If it hadn't been for Superman catching us in mid-air, neither Clark nor I would be alive. It's obvious to me which man is the greater danger. Now, leave. I'm not answering any more questions.”

 _I understand why she's upset about me mentioning Trask_ , Fox thought to himself. _No wonder the Bureau 39 operation is so secretive if they put civilians in danger during their investigations. I don't think I'd do that, even if it meant losing the alien_. Standing, Fox said, “Just one more question, Miss Lane. Will your editor be in on Monday? I'd like to talk to him.”

Lois thought immediately about her LSN addicted boss. “He'll probably be here, but you should call first to arrange an appointment. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.”

As she watched the elevator doors close behind the two men, Lois released a breath and shook from head to toe. She'd not thought about Trask in quite a while and the memory of falling through the air wasn't pleasant. But then she remembered Superman's strong, gentle arms holding her securely and smiled.

Walking to the fax machine, Lois pulled two sheets of paper from the tray and tossed the cover sheet emblazoned with the Star Labs logo into a trash can. Eagerly, she read the message. 'Preliminary testing is inconclusive. There is a foreign agent present in the stamp adhesive, but a precise determination of its pharmacology must await further testing. Results will be faxed to you within the next twenty-four hours.'

“Drat!” Lois exclaimed, as she dropped the paper on her desk. “More delays!” She sat with her hands folded under her chin and thought about her next move. Picking up the phone, Lois dialed Clark's number. When there was no answer after ten rings, she put down the phone, grabbed her bag and headed out of the newsroom. “If he won't answer his phone, and won't leave the answering machine turned on, I'll just go leave a note on his door.”

* * * * * * 

Clark landed in his parent's front yard, and looked around, expecting to see quite a bit of storm damage. He knew how heavy the rain and hail had been on Thursday, so he was especially surprised to see the corn standing a foot tall and green in the mid-morning sunlight.

As he started towards the house, he stopped when he heard his father coming out of the barn. Quickly moving to meet him near the corn field, Clark hugged his father and said, “Hi, Dad. I'm sure glad everything came through the storm so well.”

Jonathan raised his eyebrows and slapped his son on the back, “We wouldn't be in such good shape if it hadn't been for Paul. Not only did he and Scott help us during the storm, but afterwards, too.” He pointed towards the corn. “Did you notice that when you flew in?”

“Yes. How…?”

“Paul.”

“Paul?”

“I don't know exactly what he did, but the corn is growing better than it did before the storm.”

Looking at the corn with his x-ray vision, Clark saw the plants all perfectly formed and uniformly shaped. “I'd say you're going to have a really good crop this year, if something doesn't happen to it. Paul certainly has some amazing talents.”

Jonathan smiled. “Yes, he does.” He gazed up at his son and then his face sobered. “Have you told him who you are?”

“I didn't have to. He already knew.”

“How?”

“He said he just felt it.”

“Do you think it's safe for someone to know you're Superman?”

“I didn't have any choice, Dad. But I feel completely comfortable with Paul and Scott.” Pausing for a moment and looking into the sky, Clark continued more quietly, “We have so much in common. I finally feel like I have a friend who really can understand me.”

“Well, if you think it's all right, son, I trust your judgment. We've just kept this secret for a lot of years and it seems strange for anyone outside our family to know about you.”

“I know, Dad.” Putting his arm around his father's shoulders, Clark laughed. “And if I don't get changed before the guests arrive, a lot more people will know our secret.”

* * * * * * 

“Dad, may I ask you something?”

“Sure, Scott.”

“When me met Clark in the airport, you said he 'felt' different. What did you mean?”

Paul thought for a moment. “Since I've been on Earth, I've learned there are all kinds of feelings and emotions present in humans. It took me a while to get used to them, and be able to sort out what they meant. The same feelings are there in Clark, but they seem to be—I don't know—on a different wavelength. I knew there was something different about him, immediately.”

“I've felt it too, Dad. When I touched Clark, it wasn't like the other times that I was able to know things about people.”

“Yes, Scott. Now that I know Clark isn't human, it makes sense why we felt the difference. I'm glad you were able to feel it too. You're growing up.”

A fleeting smile crossed Scott's face. “Well, I won't continue to grow if I don't get some food. Come on.” As Scott put the cold cuts and bread on the table, he said, “I'm glad we found that grocery store, Dad. Another lunch from Clark's peanut butter and jelly didn't sound very good. It's too bad we didn't find any place around here to get a good birthday present.”

“You're right,” Paul said as he got the milk and sandwich spread from the refrigerator. “Maybe we could find out what kind of things Clark enjoys and take him to one of those events listed in the paper.”

“The zoo again, Dad?”

Paul shrugged. “I didn't say that, but he might like it. I just meant…” Hearing a knock at the door, father and son exchanged a panicked glance. Since there was only one way out of the apartment, they stood quietly hoping the person would go away.

The knock came again, this time more insistent. “Clark, I know you're in there. I can hear voices. Let me in.”

When he recognized Lois's voice, Paul breathed a sigh of relief. He went to the door and opened it. “Hello, Lois. I'm sorry, but Clark isn't here right now.”

Walking in past Paul, Lois asked, “Where's he at? I thought we were going to work today.”

“He had to go h…visit some people,” Paul stammered. “I think he'll be back this afternoon.”

Lois rolled her eyes, and thought to herself, _What kind of partner is he? Running off somewhere when there's work to be done_. “Is he planning to be around tomorrow?”

“He didn't say he was going anywhere, but Scott and I have talked about planning a surprise outing to celebrate his birthday.”

“Clark's birthday is Sunday?” Lois questioned. _Some friend. I've known the guy for months, and he's told me almost nothing about his personal life, or about growing up. He's known these two for one day, and already they know more about him than I do_.

“It's today, actually,” Scott said. “My dad and I want to do something nice for him. Do you know what kind of things Clark would like to do?”

“No, not really.” Somewhat embarrassed by her lack of knowledge about her partner, she remained silent for a moment. “He's traveled the whole world and met all kinds of interesting people. I know he was athletic in college, but I really don't know what kind of hobbies he enjoys now.”

“Do you think he'd like to visit the Metropolis Zoo and see a natural environment exhibit from Australia and New Zealand?” Paul asked.

“Maybe,” Lois said. “He's been to both places so I don't know if seeing the animals in a zoo would interest him.” Lois studied the man standing before her. _It's hard for me to believe this man was ever involved with Cat. My image of Paul Forrester certainly doesn't fit what I see here_.

Since he knew how Clark felt about this woman, Paul asked, “Well, we might not go to the zoo, but would you go with us wherever we end up? I know Clark would enjoy your company.”

Lois blushed. “No, I don't think I could. I came over to tell Clark that the results from the Star Labs tests won't be available until tomorrow. I'm going to the post office now to see if I can find out where the stamps were printed. Let him know I'll call him as soon as I know something.” She walked quickly towards the door, but turned when she heard Paul speak.

“Okay, I will,” Paul said. “But please reconsider going with us.”

Pulling the door open, Lois sputtered, “No. I couldn't.” She slammed the door, and almost ran down the hall.

Paul frowned. “She really likes him, but won't admit it to herself. Why are people like that?”

Scott shrugged. “How should I know? I'm just a teenager. Can we eat now?”

* * * * * * 

Clark waved at the last guests to leave the party. “Good-bye Dennis, Sarah, Sam, Louise.”

As his wife and two children walked off the porch and into the waiting car, Dennis turned to his friend. “You know, Clark, we should see each other more often. In school we were best friends, but now, we're lucky if we see each other two or three times a year.”

“I know, but with my job in Metropolis, it's hard for me to get home.”

“Yes, and I can't afford to travel to the big city, especially with the wife and kids. When the new baby comes this fall, we'll be even more tied down.”

Reaching out to shake his friend's hand, Clark said, “Even when we're far apart, we'll always have our memories.”

As he released the hand shake, Dennis agreed, “That's for sure.” He waved and left the porch to join his family.

Clark stood silently, staring at the car as Dennis drove down the driveway and entered the road. Long after even he could no longer see the vehicle, Clark hadn't made a move to enter the house. He was deep in thought when he realized his mother was speaking.

“Clark, honey, are you all right? You've been standing there a long time.”

Turning, he saw both his parents just inside the screen door with a look of concern on their faces. “Yeah, Mom, I'm okay. I was just thinking.”

Martha and Jonathan joined their son on the porch. The two of them sat in the swing and then Jonathan asked, “You must have something pretty serious on your mind for you to have been quiet this long.”

As he sat in a chair across from his parents, Clark looked into their faces. He let pass without comment the reference his father had made to his almost manic activity during his youth. “I was thinking about how almost everyone I went to school with are married and have families. I want that same kind of happiness.”

“We want you to be happy too, Clark,” Martha said.

“Dad, you and I talked one time about how we don't know if it's possible for me to have children.”

“Yes, son. There's so much we don't know about you; so much we don't have any way to find out.”

“Well, since I've met Paul and Scott, I have new hope that someday I'll be able to have a family.”

“But, honey,” Martha said, “just because Paul was able to father a child doesn't mean you'll be able to do the same thing.”

“I know that, Mom, but seeing Scott makes me believe even more strongly that one day I'll be a father.”

“You really like Paul and Scott, don't you?” Jonathan asked.

“Yes Dad. Dennis has been my friend since we started first grade together, but in one day I feel more at home with Paul and Scott than I ever have with Dennis, or any of the people I grew up with.”

“It's understandable you would share a bond with them,” Martha said. “Maybe they'll be able to stay in Metropolis for a while so the three of you can get to know each other better.”

“I'd like them to be around for a long time, but I just know that won't be possible.” All three people on the porch shared the same thought. _George Fox won't let these special people have any peace_. After several moments of silence, Clark stood, “And since Paul and Scott might have to leave at any time, I think I should get back to Metropolis and visit with them. I hope you understand why I can't stay for dinner?”

Standing in unison, Jonathan and Martha hugged their son between them. “We certainly do understand, Clark.” Martha brushed the hair from her boy's forehead. “Go on now and be with your new friends. Say hello for us.”

“I will, Mom.”

* * * * * * 

Lois finally made it to the front of the line at the post office. Pulling a sheet of the Elvis stamps from her bag, she asked, “Can you tell me where these were printed?”

The postal clerk looked across the counter at the woman. She grinned. “An Elvis fan, huh?”

Upset at being mistaken for one of those crazy people who were fanatics over celebrities, Lois spoke more sharply than she intended. “No! I'm not a fan of anything! I just want to know where these stamps were printed.”

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I assumed…”

“Well, don't assume anything! Just give me a name and address.”

“I can't do that without more information. Do you know when the stamp was issued?”

“Of course, not, you're supposed to know that. What difference does it make anyway?”

Taking a deep breath, the clerk explained, “The printer is listed in the stamp announcement section of the postal bulletin. Since we get a new one of those every two weeks, I have to know when the stamp was issued to find the right one.”

Lois opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. “I don't have any idea when the stamp came out. It had to be within the last couple of years, I think.”

“I believe you're right.” Looking at the line of people still waiting to be helped, she said, “I can't take the time right now to find it for you. Maybe you could come back on Monday?”

“No, I need to know today. I'm Lois Lane with the _Daily Planet_ , and it's important I get the information for a story I'm writing. Can I look at them?”

“Yes, I guess that would be all right, but you'll have to remain here. They can't be taken from the building.”

“That's fine.”

“Wait just a minute. I'll go get them.” The clerk returned shortly and handed the booklets to Lois. “These are for the last three years.”

Lois's heart sank when she saw the stack of paper was almost two feet high. “Thank you,” she said and walked to a counter along the far wall of the room. Just as she placed the bulletins on the slick top, they began to slide. As she grabbed for the ones heading towards the floor, Lois let go of the larger pile, which fell with a crash on the opposite side of the counter.

Lois looked around to see everyone watching her. As she got onto her knees to pick up the bulletins, she heard the clerk say, “Ma'am, before you can leave you'll have to put those back into date order, with the oldest on the bottom.”

“Okay,” Lois said as she struggled to her feet with an armful of the slippery booklets. _Great! Now, they're all mixed up and I'll have to sort through all of them_. She began to thumb through one of them and found most of the pages dealt with Postal Service policy, employee information, fraud alerts, and other items of little interest to her. Finally, in the middle of the book she found three pages of stamp announcements and in each listing was the name of the printer.

Lois mumbled to herself, “Good. This will get me what I need, even if it takes a while to find.” She put aside the first book and picked up a second. Paying more attention to the front cover this time, she noticed the table of contents listed the stamp announcements under the philately section. “Hmm, I won't have to open each one to see what's inside.” Not finding the Elvis stamp listed, she put aside the book and picked up a third, then a fourth, then a fifth.

Lois again paid closer attention to the cover and noticed mention of an index. Beginning to understand the system of the bulletins, she pulled the issue with the annual index from the pile. Lois was disappointed when she turned to the correct page and found only policy items listed. _Hmm,_ she thought, _it appears stamp announcements aren't considered important enough to be indexed_. She continued to look through the bulletins, sorting them by date as she went. Speaking quietly to herself in frustration, “This is going to take forever.”

* * * * * * 

As George Fox walked along the noisy streets of Metropolis, he was fuming with frustration. He'd sat in the hotel for three hours after leaving the _Daily Planet_ and finally had to leave before the inactivity drove him crazy. He hadn't considered the fact he would arrive for the weekend, when the newspaper would be run by a much-reduced staff. _I thought I'd be able to get more out of those reporters than I did,_ he mused, _but most of the staff didn't know enough to be any help. And that Lois Lane…she's so evasive. I'm sure she knows more than she's telling. I suppose I should have gone back to Washington with Wylie, but I just had to stay here because this is where Superman is sighted most often. I still might be able to learn something._

Fox stared into the window of a restaurant. _I've talked to several people on the street and all of them are like that reporter. I don't understand how a whole city can be deceived into believing an alien presence is anything other than a threat to humanity. It has be proof of his power over the human mind_.

Running his hands through his hair, Fox continued to walk and think. _Both these aliens remain on the loose because people shelter them and help them. The human traitors who do that are actually as harmful as the aliens. Until I can find a way to stop their influence on unsuspecting citizens, my job will be very difficult_. Fox stopped. Standing on a pedestrian bridge overlooking a construction site, he began to watch the activity below.

 

Hattie Johnson, a spry, white-haired 76-year-old lady, was being pulled down the sidewalk by her dog. Spunky, a white fox terrier, kept the leash taut as he sniffed at everything he passed, first on one side of the walk and then the other. “You silly dog, you just went a few minutes ago. What are you so interested in now?”

As if to answer his master, Spunky turned and walked towards Hattie causing the leash to fall slack in her hand. When he got almost to her feet, he made a quick turn, slipped from his collar and ran into a construction site. Ignoring all the warning barriers, Hattie followed him as fast as she could.

“Spunky! Spunky, come here!” she screamed. “You naughty dog, it's dangerous in here. Spunky, come back!” Hattie made her way through piled up boards and concrete blocks, until she finally caught sight of a white ball of fur. Spunky had his nose to the ground and was running away from her.

“Spunky, come to Momma!” Hattie breathed a sigh of relief when her little friend stopped just before entering the active part of the construction site. Panting, she caught up to him and reached down to pick him up, but he ran from her. When he stopped a few feet away, Hattie again tried to pick him up. Again, he ran. The third time Spunky ran from her, Hattie realized she was standing in the middle of the work area.

Hattie kept her eyes on Spunky as he ran through the legs of a workman, who was carrying a concrete block, and caused him to drop it. The little dog stopped right behind the man and sniffed the feet of another workman who was guiding the chute that came out of the back of a cement truck. Spunky lifted his leg and relieved himself on this second man.

Cursing, the workman bent over to knock the dog away, and swung the cement chute wildly. The chute rotated over the head of the first man as he reached down to pick up the block, and headed directly towards Hattie.

Though too far away for her to hear, Fox yelled at the woman, “Lady, get out of the way! You're going to be hit!” Since he was up on the bridge, there was nothing he could do except watch in horror. Suddenly, Fox saw a red, blue, and yellow streak pass through the construction site. Before he could even think about what it might be, Superman landed on the bridge, with the woman in his arms.

When he realized he was standing less than ten feet away from the alien threat he came to Metropolis to investigate, Fox started to approach him. He stopped, as a thought came to mind. _Since this alien isn't difficult to find, I should be able to interrogate him later. I might learn something useful from observing_. Fox listened.

Superman placed the woman on her feet and held her by the shoulders. “Are you all right?”

After she took several deep breaths, Hattie gasped, “Thank you, thank you. Yes, I think I'm all right.”

Superman raised one eyebrow and looked down at the short woman who barely came to his chest. “You wandered into in a pretty dangerous place down there.”

“I…I know.”

As he helped the woman to a bench at the side of the bridge, Superman asked, “Will you be all right here, or would you like me to take you home or to a hospital?”

“N-no. I'm fine.” With the immediate rush of danger passed, Hattie remembered what had caused her to enter the construction site. “Spunky! Where's Spunky?”

“Who's Spunky?” Superman frowned.

“My dog.” She stood up quickly and peered over the side of the bridge. “He's still down there. You have to save him.”

“I'll find him.” Looking directly at the man standing closest to the lady, Superman asked, “Would you watch her for me, please?”

Fox blinked as he realized this creature was speaking to him and managed to nod his head. He saw Superman raise one arm into the air and disappear head first over the edge of the bridge. Fox continued to watch the scene with utter fascination and thought, _I can't believe I'm actually seeing a man…, no it isn't a man, it's an alien, flying right here in front of me_.

Hattie looked at the man beside her. “He's magnificent, isn't he? Have you ever seen him before?”

“No. Have you?” Fox asked.

“Not this close, but I've seen him flying across the city a few times while I was out walking Spunky.”

Fox gazed at the radiant, smiling face of the woman. “Why do you think he's so wonderful?”

Hattie couldn't believe the man had asked such a question. “You must not be from around here. Everybody knows Superman is kind, considerate, gentle, and just plain nice. He captures criminals and helps people in trouble, like me.”

“Yes, but he's an alien. Doesn't that frighten you?”

“Why should it? If all humans were as honest as Superman, we wouldn't have any crime. Sometimes I wish there were more than one of him.”

“So you think this alien is the solution to all our problems?”

“Hrumph! Don't be silly, young man. Super powers and special abilities can't solve all the troubles in this world, but Superman gives us hope. He's a symbol of what can be right in our lives.”

“What do you mean?”

“He takes a stand against the evil around us. Anyone who's paying attention to his message knows we don't have to accept the crime, violence, and lawlessness in our cities. We all need to follow his lead and fight back.”

Fox shook his head and thought about what the woman had said. _All the articles I've read about Superman describe rescues and fighting crime and what I just saw him do is admirable. But the fact remains; he's an alien who appeared on the planet just a few months ago. He needs to be investigated and answer some questions. He could be the advance guard for an invading force, trying to soften us up by making the people believe he's good_. With that thought firmly in mind, Fox turned to watch the scene below him.

Superman floated above the construction site and used his x-ray vision to look for Spunky. Finally spotting the little dog in a small space between a wall and a pallet full of concrete blocks, Superman landed. Speaking quietly to the dog, he lifted the concrete blocks with one hand, while using his super-speed with the other to pick up Spunky before he had a chance to run.

After he placed the blocks back on the ground, Superman flew to the bridge cradling the frightened dog in his arms. He landed in front of Hattie, and gave the little dog to the woman. “There you go, Spunky. You're all right now.”

Hattie smiled broadly and hugged her dog tightly to her chest. “I can't thank you enough for bringing my Spunky back to me. He's my best friend.”

Scratching the dog on the head, Superman asked, “Are you sure you're okay, ma'am?”

“Yes, there's nothing wrong with me, now that I have Spunky back.”

“I still think you should let me take you home.”

“No, that won't be necessary. I only live a few blocks from here and walking is good for me.” The elderly woman pulled Superman's face down to hers, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, again.”

“You're welcome.” Superman took one last look at the crowd gathered on the bridge, then raised his arm and flew into the late afternoon sky.

Fox watched until Superman disappeared from view, then turned and headed to his hotel. He thought, _I wish I'd had a chance to talk to Superman, but he took off before I could say anything. I'm convinced I made the right choice to stay in Metropolis. I may yet find out something useful about this alien_.

* * * * * * 

“Dad, it was awesome! Flying with Clark was unlike anything I've ever done before. In a plane, you're so far above things, the people and cars look like ants. We were so close to the tops of the buildings, I could see everything going on in the streets.”

Paul smiled at his son, “That's more my kind of flying. Before I became Scott Hayden or Paul Forrester, I flew around for a while in my natural state.”

“You did?”

“I did. I'm glad you got to fly with Clark. I've often wished there was some way I could show you what it's like to fly my way. It's very—I don't know—comfortable.”

“Yes, it is,” Clark said as he entered the room from the balcony. “When I want to unwind, I just take off and float among the clouds. To see things from above puts a whole different perspective on life down here.” 

Jumping at the unexpected voice, Paul relaxed when he realized it was Clark.

Clark grinned. “I remember my first trip into space. I didn't tell my parents what I was doing, because I hadn't been flying long and I didn't want them to worry. I guess I was being a typical eighteen year-old daredevil, but I wanted to see how high I could get. Almost before I knew it, I was out of the atmosphere and looking down at the Earth. Hanging there in the star-studded blackness of space, the beauty of the sight startled me. I didn't stay up there long, but it made a lasting impression on me.”

“I also remember the first time I saw Earth, Paul said. I've seen a lot of different worlds, but this little blue globe, with its swirling white clouds, is one of the most beautiful planets in this part of the galaxy.”

“I wish I could see it,” Scott said.

Paul put his hand on his son's shoulder. “Maybe you can, if Clark is willing to help.”

“How? There's no air up there and I couldn't breathe. Even you can't go up there now that you're Paul Forrester.”

“Scott, do you remember the energy shield we created at the Kents to keep off the rain?”

“Sure Dad.”

“All you have to do is the same thing, except make it completely surround you and maintain the atmospheric pressure at the proper level. Clark could then take you up for a short time because there would be enough air trapped inside for you to breathe.”

Scott shrugged. “'All you have to do', he says. You make it sound so easy. What if I lost my concentration for just a second? I'd be done for.”

“I don't think you would.”

“Well, I'll think about it. After I practice for a while, maybe I'll try it.”

Taking advantage of the break in the conversation, Clark disappeared for a second to change clothes. When he came back into the room he asked, “What do you guys want to do for dinner? We could go out, or fix something here.”

Paul and Scott exchanged a glance. Because of their limited finances, they didn't often eat out unless they were on the run and had no choice. Scott spoke up first. “My dad and I bought some stuff this afternoon. Let's stay here where we can talk.”

“Okay,” Clark said, “I think that's a good idea. I suppose anyone who overheard our conversations would think we were kind of strange.”

As he got up to go into the kitchen, Scott laughed. “That's because we are all strange.”

Clark watched father and son work together to prepare a meat loaf and potatoes to bake. “It looks like you guys have this process down to a science.”

Paul glanced over his shoulder at Clark. “We've been on the road so long we've learned to make every motion count. Sometimes we have to prepare our food in primitive places.”

“I can understand that,” Clark said. “My travels have taken me to some very undeveloped areas of the world. Sometimes the only thing between a cold, unappetizing meal, and hot food was my heat vision. It sure comes in handy at times.”

“My dad can use the sphere to heat things, too. I'm getting better at it, but it still gets away from me sometimes.”

Clark laughed. “I remember one time in the Australian outback, I went for a whole week without seeing another person. I'd decided I wanted to 'rough it' like other people do. In hindsight, I guess I really didn't.”

Pausing in his chopping of lettuce for a salad, Scott asked, “What do you mean?”

“I bought an ice box, extra gas and other provisions in Alice Springs and headed off in a Land Rover across the desert. More than one person told me I was crazy, but I was determined to go. Of course, I knew I could return to the city in a matter of seconds, but I wanted to experience the back country as any other person would.

“It was easy to keep the ice frozen with my super-breath and I cooked the food with my heat vision. I was quite comfortable as I explored several hundred miles of the Australian desert. I didn't return to civilization until I ran out of food and gas.” Clark laughed. “I even had to carry the Land Rover the last fifty miles.”

Paul looked at Clark. “It sounds like you enjoy traveling.”

“I do. There's always something new to see and to experience. But after several years of wandering the world, I decided to settle down for a while and try to lead a normal life.”

Paul and Scott exchanged a glance. “Someday we want to do that too,” Paul said quietly. “We've done a lot of traveling, but almost none of it by choice.” Several minutes of awkward silence passed before Paul spoke again. “Scott and I talked about going to The Metropolis Zoo tomorrow. They have a traveling natural habitat exhibit from Australia and New Zealand. Since you've seen the real thing, maybe you wouldn't be interested in going with us?”

“Actually, I would like to see it. It's been several years since I was there and I think the exhibit would bring back some pleasant memories. I would enjoy sharing those memories with the two of you.”

“Great. When Lois was here today, I…”

“Lois was here?” Clark asked.

“Yes. She came to tell you the lab results wouldn't be ready until tomorrow and she would call later to discuss the story. She was upset you weren't here.”

“That's normal.”

“I asked her if she'd go with us on our outing but she said she couldn't.”

“That sounds like Lois, too. The only person who would be able to get her to stop working is Superman. If he asked her to go out, she'd be ready in a minute, but she doesn't even know I exist.” Just then the phone rang and Clark got up to answer it. “Hello, Lois. Paul said you'd come by today.”

“Where were you, Clark?” Lois asked impatiently.

“I had to go see some people.”

“I thought I told you we'd be getting the lab results today. I expected you to be home.”

“I do have a life outside of work, you know.”

Stunned by his frankness, Lois finally said, “Yeah, I suppose so.”

“Have you heard from Jimmy? How's the Chief?”

“Jimmy said he went to sleep as soon as they got to his apartment, and when he woke up this morning he didn't remember anything about yesterday afternoon. He's home now, and seems to be completely normal.”

“That's a relief.”

“While you were out having fun, I was at the post office going through postal bulletins. The stamps are made by West River LexPrint.”

 _Some fun_ , Clark thought, as he envisioned the rescue at the construction site. “That's here in Metropolis. We can talk to them on Monday.”

Ready to argue they should go to the plant on Sunday, Lois thought better of it. “All right. I'll see you on Monday.”

“Lois, we're going to the zoo tomorrow. Would you like to come along?”

“No. I couldn't. The Star Labs results should be in and I need to start writing my story.”

“But, Lois, it's not like you'd be playing hooky. It's Sunday—a day of rest—remember?”

“Not for me, Clark. I've got work to do.”

 _Just like I figured_ , Clark thought. He sighed and said, “Okay. Good-bye, Lois. See you Monday.”

“Good-bye, Clark.”

As he hung up the phone, Clark looked at his watch and turned the television onto the local news. Seeing Paul and Scott putting dinner on the table, Clark got dishes from the cupboard and set three places. When all were seated, Clark tilted his head towards the television. “I like to keep up with the competition.”

While passing a bowl of green beans to Clark, Scott almost dropped them when he heard a story come on the news.

“This amateur video was taken near a construction site this afternoon, as Superman prevented what could have been a serious accident. After he pulled seventy-six year old Hattie Johnson out of danger, the Man of Steel went back and rescued her dog, Spunky.”

Scott turned between the television image that showed Superman finding and returning the dog, and the man seated next to him at the dinner table. “You did that this afternoon, in front of all those people?”

As he took the beans, Clark shrugged. “It wasn't anything special. I just happened to be flying by on my way back from Kansas, and did what had to be done.”

With a perplexed look, Scott said, “I can't get over the fact the cops and the army aren't out to get you. Why do they treat you so differently than they do us?”

“Scott!” Paul exclaimed. “That's not a nice thing to say.”

Scott stared at his plate. “I didn't mean it to come out like that, but it seems so unfair.”

Clark put his hand on Scott's arm. “I know what you meant, and it is unfair. I can't tell you why I'm treated differently, unless it's just a matter of time. It's been almost twenty years since your father first came to this planet. Since then, people have become a lot more open to the possible existence of alien life. You're being pursued by a paranoid man who started his search long ago.”

“Yeah, I know that.” After a few seconds, Scott grinned at his father. “Maybe the answer to our problems would be for us to stop trying to stay low profile and do things like Clark. Get yourself on the six o'clock news a few times and Fox would have to give up. If the people knew you weren't a threat, he couldn't do anything to us.”

Shaking his head, Paul said, “That might have worked once, but Fox knows I'm Paul Forrester and I can't hide behind a secret identity like Clark can.” He tilted his head towards the image on the screen. “See that crowd? I wouldn't want to live with the frenzy that surrounds Superman whenever he appears in public, any more than I want to be captured by Fox.”

“That's for sure,” Clark stated. “When I created Superman, I didn't expect him to be such a celebrity. I'd have no privacy at all if it became known who I was. I don't know how singers and actors handle it. Some of them can't even go to a restaurant or store, or do the simplest things without being recognized and asked for autographs and pictures. At least Superman can become Clark Kent and disappear for a while.”

“I guess you guys are right,” Scott agreed, “it wouldn't work.”

Paul glanced between Scott and Clark. “Fox can't help but see the reports about Superman. All we can do is hope he finally accepts us, like most of the world has accepted Superman.” They turned back to their meal as the video started showing the faces in the crowd, and neither Paul nor Scott saw George Fox standing next to Superman.

After several minutes of contemplative silence, the conversation resumed and during the rest of dinner the friends talked of pleasant things. As Clark finished off the last piece of meat loaf he said, “You guys sure did a great job with the food. It was nice having a home-cooked meal prepared by someone else, just like my weekly dinners at home with Mom and Dad.”

Paul smiled, “Thank you. I'm glad you liked it. Now, we have something special for you.”

Scott got up and took a sack from behind the couch. “We couldn't find a gift for your birthday, so we decided on a birthday 'cake'.” Pulling three cupcakes from the bag, Scott placed them in front of Clark. One had red icing, the second had blue, and the third had yellow.

Paul placed a candle in each, then pulled the sphere from his pocket and lit them. Father and son sang an off-key rendition of the happy birthday song that ended with hysterical laughter.

Scott slapped Clark on the back and smiled mischievously. “Now, you've got to blow out the candles in order to get your wish.”

Clark was laughing so hard, at first he couldn't catch his breath. Finally, he managed an attempt at the candles, blowing very gently so as not to remove them from the table. To his utter surprise, nothing happened. He tried again but the candles still burned. As Clark looked at his friends, they both burst into uncontrolled laughter. “Okay, you guys. What's going on?”

Scott took a deep breath and put on a straight face. “What's the matter? Can't Superman blow out three puny little birthday candles? What kind of super hero are you?”

Clark glanced from father to son, both of whom now had completely serious expressions. Suddenly understanding when he saw the sphere glowing weakly under the table, he looked directly at Paul. “Now I get it, you re-lit them as soon as they went out.”

Unable to control themselves any longer, Paul and Scott joined Clark in another round of uncontrolled laughter. Finally able to stand, Clark pulled both his friends into a bear hug and lifted them off the floor. “This has been the best birthday I've ever had. Thanks guys.”

###    
**Sunday, May 18**  


Lois made a beeline to the fax machine. Grabbing the Star Labs report from the receiving tray, she noticed it had come in at 10:05 a.m., just fifteen minutes earlier. “I timed that about right,” Lois mumbled. She walked absentmindedly to her desk and read: 

 

_Analysis of the foreign substance found in the stamp adhesive has determined it to be an unknown agent, chemically similar to methamphetamines, i.e. stimulants, but with increased dopaminergic activity. There is no evidence it would be physically addictive, like narcotics or barbiturates, and therefore would pose no long-term deleterious effects on persons ingesting it._

_However, as with many drugs, a person could become psychologically dependent upon the substance. A unique property of this drug appears to be the simultaneous stimulation of the pleasure center of the brain with the feeling of deprivation. After use, the person will become irrational, anxious and irritable if denied access to the source of their pleasure. It is unknown why that pleasure sense is triggered only by viewing the Luthor Shopping Network. Further study is required._

_The duration of effects from the drug is directly proportional to the amount ingested and the body mass of the person. The distribution of the substance on the back of the stamp is uniform and appears to cause approximately two hours of stimulation per stamp for the average person. Each use of a stamp will re-infect the person. If you require specifics on clinical procedures used or actual lab results, call our office on Monday._

 

Letting out a deep breath, Lois said to herself, “This stuff is insidious. It can reach out and grab anyone, at any time, and it's got to be stopped now.” She picked up the phone and dialed Clark's number. While waiting for him to answer, she continued her solitary dialog. “We need to get the details of this story wrapped up so we can go to press before we're scooped by somebody else. Stewart Rogers and other reporters at the gymnastics competition were asking the same questions we were.”

After several rings, Clark's answering machine came on. Hanging up, Lois said, “Drat! He's already gone to the zoo.” She grabbed her bag and headed for the elevator. “I'll just go out there and find him. This is too important to wait.”

* * * * * * 

Bored, George Fox thumbed through the Sunday edition of the _Daily Planet_. In the middle of the local news-brief section, there was a very short article reporting Superman's rescue of the elderly lady and her dog. “I can't believe it,” Fox said to himself, “this report comes right after an article about a youth center open house, and before a report about a motorist who tried to run down two bicycle cops. It's treated like any other news item. Don't these people know they have an alien in their midst and no one knows why he's here?”

Picking up another section of the paper, Fox flipped through it and stopped when he saw four pages of photographs and text about the recent tornadoes in the Midwest. He stared at the pictures and was glad the tornadoes had not approached Denver. When he and Wylie flew out on Thursday, the destruction they saw from the plane was awesome. The twisters had flattened whole neighborhoods and stripped fields bare. The photographs showed the devastation up close and it was even worse than Fox had imagined.

Fox focused on one particularly poignant photograph of a woman holding her baby, sitting among the pile of rubble that once was her home. _Normally, this kind of thing doesn't affect me, but this photographer seems to have a real compassion for the human suffering a tornado can cause. Hmm, that's unusual, there's no name listed. The caption just says staff photos. Well, whoever the guy is who took these, he sure knows how to take pictures. It's a rare talent that can bring the photographs alive and capture the misery and despair of the victims_.

Fox shook his head and mumbled, “Why am I thinking like this? I must be tired.”

* * * * * * 

“Come on you two, you've gotta see this!” Scott exclaimed. He pointed to an enclosure. “Look at the horns on that thing!”

Paul read the sign outside the fence, “Robert's gazelle: a species of antelope native to Africa.” Taking a picture of the pair of animals, he said, “It does seem there are a great variety of horns on these animals. Some are large and others small, some curve forward, others backwards, and still others are twisted. I wonder why?”

“Who knows?” Scott walked a few feet farther, and then turned to watch his father who stopped and read every sign they passed. _I think Dad is really enjoying himself. I have to admit I've learned some things too, but mostly I just like spending time with him and Clark. We don't have to worry about Fox finding us, and Superman can take a vacation from saving the world. For a little while anyway, we can all do something normal._

Stopping to take another picture of a southern greater kudu, a type of antelope with large, curling horns, Paul said, “I like seeing all these animals, but I can't help wondering if it's a good thing for them to be locked in cages like this.”

Clark looked out across the wide open, grassy area that housed the antelope exhibit. “They aren't exactly in pens.”

“It's still a cage to them,” Paul replied. “They've been taken away from their natural environment to be kept here.”

“A lot of these animals were born here, Dad. They've never known anything else.”

“Yes, but does that make it right?”

“It's sort of like Waldo, Dad. Some of these animals are being helped by being here.”

“But what about the others? Are they being helped?”

“Maybe not, Paul,” Clark said, “but there are millions of people who will never see these animals in their native lands, who get to see them in zoos. Many of those visitors come away from here more convinced than ever that helping animals survive is a good thing.”

“But they don't see the animals as they really live.”

“Sometimes, we have to make compromises,” Clark said.

“Yes, I guess so.”

Continuing to walk among the various enclosures, the three friends came upon the primates. While Paul stopped to read the next sign, Clark and Scott walked a few feet ahead. Clark pointed and said, “See that large animal over there being groomed by several others? He's the dominant male. I saw baboons like these on the savannas of Africa. They have a well-defined social hierarchy.”

Pointing again, Clark asked, “Do you see that group over near the fence?” When Scott nodded, Clark continued, “Those are juveniles. They constantly posture and snarl at each other, and sometimes fight to establish their place in the social structure. Right now, they seem very agitated, and I'd say we're about to see a battle erupt.”

Scott watched as about a dozen young baboons stared, growled, and walked in circles around each other. A movement near the edge of the enclosure caught his eye and he turned to focus on the lighter-colored animal. Suddenly realizing it wasn't a baboon, but a small boy, he shouted, “Hey, you shouldn't be in there!” With his attention drawn to the juvenile baboons as they headed towards the child, Scott didn't see Clark grab at his shirt and disappear.

When Paul heard his son yell, he went to his side. Following Scott's gaze, he saw the young animals converging on the boy. The attention of the dominate male was drawn to the commotion, and he moved quickly to investigate the invasion of his territory. “Scott, we have to calm these animals. You take the leaders of the juvenile group and I'll take the big male. Do it now!”

Just for an instant Scott looked to his father for reassurance, then took a deep breath and extended his hand to the baboons. He concentrated all his energy on calming, peaceful thoughts and was pleased to see the first juvenile stop running and sit only two feet from the boy. In a few more seconds, the others soon followed.

As the dominate male sat back on his haunches and stared at Paul, Superman flew into view and was greeted by a shout from the gathering crowd. He pulled open a hole in the wire top of the enclosure, entered, scooped up the child, and carried him to safety. The crowd cheered as Superman went back and closed the hole he'd made in the wire, and filled in the opening at the bottom of the cage where the boy had crawled through.

Landing beside the child, who appeared to be about ten, Superman asked, “What's your name?”

The boy shivered. “M-M-Martin,”

Superman looked into the child's eyes and put a hand on his shoulder. “You know, Martin, that wasn't a very smart thing to do.”

“I…I…know that now, but…but I just wanted to see the monkeys up close.”

“I think you're close enough out here, don't you?”

Martin hung his head and stared at the ground.

Placing his finger under the boy's chin and lifting his face gently, Superman asked, “Where are your parents?”

“Th…They're at home.” He pointed behind himself. “We live down that street. I come up here a lot and sneak in. Daddy says we don't have enough money to come see the animals.”

With his eyes on the boy, Superman didn't see Lois Lane join the crowd of onlookers. He picked up the child and asked, “Don't you think your mommy and daddy are worried about you?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Martin looked into the face of the super adult holding him and asked hesitantly, “What are you going to do to me?”

Brushing the child's hair from his face, Superman said, “I'm going to take you home.” Just as he lifted into the air, Superman heard a familiar voice from the crowd and paused about a foot from the ground.

“Superman, it's Lois Lane with the _Daily Planet_. Can you make a statement about this incident?”

Superman found Lois in the crowd and thought, _I wonder what she's doing here? Yesterday, she told me she didn't have time for the zoo, she didn't have time to spend with me. But here she is, interviewing Superman again. I don't understand that woman_. Superman scanned the faces in the crowd, both young and old. “I want to say something to all the kids out there. Always think about what you do before you do it. I won't always be around to get you out of trouble. Young Martin could have been seriously injured because the baboons saw him as an intruder into their group and were ready to attack to protect their territory. And kids, never, ever leave home without telling your parents where you're going.” With a wave to the crowd, Superman lifted slowly into the air and flew Martin home.

As the crowd dispersed, Lois noticed Paul behind her with his camera pointed towards the figure in the sky. “Did you get any pictures of the rescue?” she asked excitedly.

Paul shrugged his shoulders. “No.”

“What kind of photographer are you anyway?”

Thinking about how he'd been busy at the actual moment when Superman took the child from the cage, Paul said, “I did get some shots of Superman holding the boy, and of him flying away.”

“Well, I guess that'll have to do. Give me your film and I'll take it back to the _Planet_ and file the story.” Lois could see Paul was thinking about her request. “You do work for the _Planet_ you know, and this is news.”

As Paul rewound the film, Lois grinned broadly. “I can't believe I managed to arrive just before Superman rescued the child. I'll scoop every other paper in town with this story and I'll have pictures too. I just wish Superman had stayed longer.”

“He did have to take the boy home,” Paul said.

“Yes, I know that,” Lois pouted. “But he could have talked to me longer and given me more for my story.”

When Paul gave Lois the film, his hand brushed hers and he realized her feelings were very strong for Superman. She'd wanted him to stay, but not to talk about the rescue. Paul smiled, “You like Superman a lot, don't you?”

Lois blushed. “Yes, but so does every other woman in Metropolis. He's…wonderful.”

“What about Clark? Do you like him?” Paul asked.

“Clark? That's ridiculous. He isn't even in the same league with Superman.” Lois looked around. “Where is Clark anyway? I thought you guys were here to celebrate his birthday?”

 _Uh-oh_ , Scott thought, _Clark's not back from taking the boy home, but we have to tell her something_. “He…he went to the bathroom.”

“Oh,” she said, more subdued, “I guess I'll wait for him then.” She walked with Paul and Scott across the road from the baboon exhibit to stand in the shade of a tree.

As he approached from behind, Clark saw Lois with Paul and Scott and knew he'd need to explain his absence once again. “Hello Lois. I didn't know you were here.”

“Well, I am, Clark.”

“I guess you arrived after I left to find a zoo keeper to help the boy.”

Lois frowned and stared at Scott then Clark. “I thought you went to the bathroom.”

 _Oops_ , Clark thought. _Now I've done it_. “I did head that way, but when I saw the boy in with the baboons, I went for help instead.”

She let a fleeting thought pass about why Clark was always gone when Superman appeared. “I came to talk to you about the stamps.” She pulled the fax from her bag and handed it to him. “Here's the report from Star Labs, and there is definitely a drug in the adhesive. We have to stop them. Now!”

“But it's Sunday. Do you think we'd be able to find out anything?”

“The plant operates twenty-fours a day, seven days a week.”

Quickly reading the fax, Clark gave it back to his partner and sighed. “That might be true, but the office won't be open today. Wouldn't it make more sense to go when we can get clearance to tour the plant?”

“We could just go look around and then go back tomorrow.”

“Look at what, a building?” Pushing his glasses up, Clark said, “The fax makes it obvious you were right. There is some kind of product tampering going on. But we don't want to spook these guys or let them avoid prosecution on some technicality. We need to go to the police with our suspicions, so they can issue a proper search warrant for the plant.”

Lois shrugged. “I guess you're right. I need to go write my Superman rescue story for tomorrow's edition, anyway. Bye, guys.” Turning to walk away, Lois noticed the sign on the enclosure behind them. “Ring-tailed lemur.”

“What?” Clark asked.

“Behind you, it's a ring-tailed lemur. It makes me think about when Trask was at the _Planet_ , with the lie detector.”

“Oh, yeah,” Clark said, “I remember that.”

“I meant to tell you about a guy who showed up in the newsroom yesterday who was a lot like him. He was…”

“Excuse me?” a man asked.

Lois stopped talking and looked at the man, woman, and three young children who had walked up to them.

“I'm sorry to interrupt,” the man said, “but would one of you take a picture of us in front of the baboon cage where Superman just saved that boy? We want to show the folks back home we were here.”

Grinning and pointing at his father, Scott said, “That's the guy who should take your picture. And be sure to buy tomorrow's edition of the _Daily Planet_.” He put a hand on Lois's shoulder. “This lady is a reporter and she's going to write a story about the rescue. There'll even be pictures of Superman with it.”

“Really? How exciting!” the man exclaimed. He handed his camera to Paul, and Paul and Scott followed the family across the road.

Lois looked at Clark. “Well, I guess if Scott is telling people I'm going to write a Superman story, I'd better go do it.”

“You could stay and finish touring the zoo with us. It would be fun.”

“I can't, Clark. I've got work to do. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah. Bye, Lois.” Clark watched her leave then waited for Paul and Scott to return.

Scott let out a big breath. “What a day! You guys really are 'The Dynamic Duo'.”

Clark laughed aloud. “You helped, too. It's more like 'The Terrific Trio' or 'The Three Musketeers'.”

“The what?” Paul asked.

Clark and Scott looked at each other and burst into a fit of laughter. After catching their breath, they said in unison, “Not now!” As soon as they uttered the words, the two young men began laughing again, oblivious to Paul standing beside them with a puzzled expression.

Finally able to speak, Clark said, “I don't know about you guys, but I'd like to leave the rest of the zoo for another time. Let's go get something to eat and go back to the apartment.”

When he saw Scott nod, Paul said, “That sounds good to us.” The three friends left by a side exit. Their 'normal' day had turned into something quite different, but none of them seemed to mind. Spending time together was all that mattered.

* * * * * * 

Lois typed the command to save her Superman rescue story and sat back to relax for a moment. _That didn't take long, but then there wasn't much to tell. Superman didn't even stay to talk to me_. She stared at the phone for several minutes, and then made a decision. Picking up the receiver, she dialed Jimmy's home number. After three rings she heard him say hello. “Jimmy, it's Lois. Can you come to the office right now?”

“Uh…Well, I guess so. What's up?”

“I know where the stamps are made and I want to go down there tonight. I'd like you to come with me and take some pictures. Bring whatever film and equipment you need for night shots.”

“What about C.K.? Will he be there?”

Thinking of his refusal to accompany her on this investigation, Lois said, “No, he's out with Paul and Scott, having 'fun'. Can you meet me at the _Planet_ about nine?”

“Yeah, I'll be there.”

“Good. See you then.”

 

“Let us out here, please,” Lois said to the taxi driver. Paying the man, she and Jimmy got out of the car and stood in a deserted street about a half mile from West River LexPrint. “Now, we walk the rest of the way.”

Jimmy looked up and down the street, then up at the sky. “It sure is dark tonight. There's no moon and the only street lights are over in the next block.”

“All the better for what we're doing. Let's go.”

Jimmy hurried to catch up with Lois who was already on the move. “What exactly are we looking for, that we had to come so late?”

“I figure most people in the plant aren't involved with adding the drug to the adhesive. If something fishy is going on, it's more likely to be happening at night.”

Sniffing the air, Jimmy laughed softly. “It even smells like fish.”

Lois glared at the young man. “We're on the waterfront. What do you expect? Now be quiet, we don't want to let anyone know we're here.”

They walked in silence and soon came to a back door to the plant. Trying the handle and finding it locked, Lois whispered, “Can you open it?”

“Yes, but…”

“Just do it!”

Letting out a deep breath, Jimmy picked the lock in a few seconds. He entered the large open building, followed by Lois. “All I see are pallets of boxes ready to be shipped,” he whispered.

“We have to find the office and look for information on the chemical formula. We also need to find the production facility where they print the stamps. You go down that wall and I'll follow this one. We'll meet back here in twenty minutes.” Lois turned and walked down the inner wall of the building, looking at all the doors and windows along the way. Nothing seemed promising until she came upon a door labeled 'Laboratory'. When she found the door locked she thought, _I really need to have Jimmy or Clark teach me how to open locks_.

Lois hurried back to the rendezvous point and waited for Jimmy. As he approached, she motioned for him to hurry. “Come this way. I found the lab.”

“Good. I didn't see anything that way except more storage.”

When they reached the laboratory again, Lois stepped aside so Jimmy could unlock the door. Following him in, she shined her flashlight around and noticed there were no windows and only the one entrance. Tables and counters in the middle of the room contained a variety of beakers, test tubes and other equipment. File cabinets lined two of the walls, and a couple of desks, their tops cluttered with papers, stood in two of the corners. Various types of electronic testing equipment and computers filled the remaining wall space.

“What are we looking for?” Jimmy asked.

“I'm not sure. Something related to the drug formula or modifications to the plant to allow introduction of a foreign substance into the adhesive, or anything out of the ordinary.”

“Okay,” Jimmy whispered as he moved to the other side of the room to begin his search.

Lois placed her flashlight in her mouth and began to thumb through the items on one of the desks.

After several minutes, Jimmy asked, “What's that?”

Lois almost dropped the flashlight when she turned her head quickly. Taking it from her mouth, she whispered, “What have you found?”

“I didn't find anything. I thought I heard something.”

Listening for a moment, Lois said, “I think you're just scared. There's nothing out there. Now, keep…” Suddenly blinded when the bright overhead lights came on, Lois turned towards the door.

“You're wrong, little lady. You should have listened to your friend,” a blond-haired man said grimly.

Lois blinked several times and was finally able to make out two large men standing just inside the room. Each had a gun belted at their waist and they were pointing automatic rifles towards Jimmy and her. Keeping her eyes on the business end of the rifle, Lois moved closer to Jimmy.

“Don't make any sudden moves, Sweetcakes. We've got to take you to the boss,” the blond said with a smirk. “Then afterwards, maybe you and I can have some fun.”

Lois let out the breath she'd been holding as she watched the second man take a few steps into the room. He motioned for them to move by jerking the rifle barrel upwards quickly, then pointing it at the door. Lois walked towards the door and saw Jimmy following her. The blond turned and left the room, and the second man brought up the rear behind Jimmy. Once through the door, the two men took places behind their captives and marched them quietly to the office.

Entering the room, Lois saw a small white-haired man sitting behind a desk. The two men with guns stood quietly at attention on either side of the door. “What are you going to do to us?” Lois asked with as much courage as she could muster.

“You're trespassing on private property. Didn't you see the signs?” the white-haired man questioned.

“No,” Lois said defiantly.

“Well, that's too bad. It's within my rights to shoot trespassers. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“I'm Lois Lane and this is Jimmy Olson. We're reporters with the _Daily Planet_.”

“Snoopy reporters, huh. Why did you break into this plant?” When neither of them said anything, the white-haired man continued, “If you won't talk to me now, you'll talk to the boss later. You won't like that.”

Glancing at the men behind them, Jimmy said, “People know we're here. You can't do anything to us.”

The white-haired man glared at Jimmy. “That's where you're wrong, laddy. Now, what were you two doing in the lab?”

Lois and Jimmy looked at each other, but neither said anything.

“Okay, have it your way.” Picking up the phone, the white-haired man dialed a number and waited for an answer. “Is the boss there?…When will he be back?…We've got a couple of intruders here.…I don't know, they won't talk.…I don't think so, the alarm system alerted us before they had much time.…All right, I'll put them on ice until I hear from him.” Hanging up the phone, the white-haired man stood and came around his desk. “You two are going to wish you'd talked. Now, follow me!”

Lois met Jimmy's eyes, and hoped her look conveyed an apology for getting them in this mess. As they turned and followed the white-haired man, the two guards fell in behind. Lois tried to remember the route they took through the plant, but before long became totally lost in all the twists and turns.

After what seemed like an eternity, the white-haired man shouted, “Stop!”

Jimmy saw they were standing in front of a door with a sign: Dangerous Explosion Hazard! Entry by Authorized Personnel Only. With the two guards behind them, their rifles poised, Jimmy knew there was nothing he could do. When the white-haired man unlocked the door, the guards pushed Lois and him inside.

Jimmy surveyed the room. It was about sixty feet square, with a concrete floor and walls, no windows, and only the one door. Arrayed along the far wall were several tanks labeled with chemical names Jimmy didn't recognize. The center of the room was empty, but each of the walls was lined with valves and pipes of various sizes and colors that came from the tanks and extended to the high ceiling where they disappeared from view.

“What are you going to do to us?” Lois asked.

Grinning broadly, the blond guard said, “I'm going to have some fun.” He reached out to touch Lois's face, but quickly withdrew his hand when the white-haired man entered the room.

“Listen up, you two,” the white-haired man said. “See those tanks down there?” He paused to be sure his captives took notice of where he'd pointed. “They contain highly explosive thinners and solvents. The propyl acetate, which unfortunately always vents vapors into this room, is especially volatile. Static electricity or a spark will cause it to explode.”

He held up two pair of chains and manacles. “I'm going to place these around your hands and feet and then attach them to the pipes along the wall. I wouldn't advise trying to escape because if you cause a spark…. Well, I don't think I need to go into that. You're both intelligent people.”

The blond guard put his hand in Lois's back and said, “Move, over in that corner.”

The second guard growled at Jimmy, “You too. Move!”

Lois stumbled as the man pushed her. With fire in her eyes, she turned, but kept her silence when confronted with the rifle barrel in her face. She walked in the direction indicated. Lois watched as the second guard took Jimmy to the other end of the same wall.

“Sit!” the blond guard commanded.

After Lois sat on the cold, concrete floor, the white-haired man looped a chain around her waist, and then very gently pulled the end of it down to her feet. This he attached to the short chain that connected the ankle cuffs he clamped around her legs. Locking a manacle on each of Lois's wrists, he then straightened her left arm.

“Ouch! That hurts!” Lois exclaimed.

“Don't squirm! If these chains rub together you could make this whole place explode.”

Lois saw real fear in the man's eyes and sat quietly as he finished chaining her to the wall with her arms spread out from her sides. When the man stood and walked towards Jimmy, Lois thought to herself, _Well, Lane, I guess you've gotten yourself into it this time_. Looking down the wall, she could see the same procedures being done to Jimmy. _And not just me_.

A few minutes later, the second guard and white-haired man walked up to Lois. “You stay quiet until tomorrow, when the boss gets back. He'll decide what to do with you.”

Lois tilted her head, trying to see into the eyes of the man who towered above her. She asked, “Why would you put us in here and risk blowing up the plant? Would your boss want that?”

The white-haired man laughed. “This room is isolated from the rest of the plant specifically because of the explosion hazard. If something were to happen, the sprinkler system would put out the fire and only the equipment, chemicals, and any people inside would be destroyed.”

Lois watched the three men dump her bag and Jimmy's camera equipment by the door and leave the room. Turning towards Jimmy she wanted to say something to him, but the distance made communication impossible. _I don't know what I'd say to you anyway_ , she thought. _But I really am sorry I got you into this mess._

###    
**Monday, May 19**  


George Fox sat on the edge of the bed and fumed. He looked at his watch and mumbled, “Three hours to wait. That editor at the _Daily Planet_ said he couldn't see me until eleven o'clock. I've half a mind to go over there right now and sit in the lobby of that building until I get in.” After waiting another five minutes, Fox grabbed his coat and headed out to call a taxi.

* * * * * * 

Clark scanned the newsroom as Paul and he left the elevator. “That's strange. Lois isn't here and she was anxious to go to LexPrint today. It's almost eight and I expected her to be waiting on me.”

“Maybe she's in with Mr. White,” Paul suggested.

Turning towards the editor's office, Clark looked through the wall with his x-ray vision. “No, she's not there.”

“Do you think she's already gone to the plant?”

“I guess she might have, she is impetuous and head-strong. I'll check with the Chief and see if he knows anything about her.”

“Okay,” Paul said. “I'll see if there's an assignment for me today.”

Quickly crossing the newsroom floor, Clark knocked on the editor's open door, and then entered. “How do you feel, Chief?”

“Just fine, Kent. Why?”

Clark raised his eyebrows. “Do you remember anything about Friday and watching LSN?”

“No, but when I woke up in Olson's apartment on Saturday, he told me I'd bought all kinds of things. I spent most of the weekend canceling the orders.”

“Has Lois been in this morning?”

“Come to think of it, I've not seen her or Olson either. Do you know where they are?”

“Maybe,” Clark sighed. “Over the weekend Lois found out some details about the drug that is being put on the stamps and located the plant where they're made. I think she might be there.”

“Stamps? Drug? What are you talking about, Kent?” Perry growled.

Clark sat down in front of the editor's desk. “Did Jimmy tell you anything about why you were buying things?”

“Yeah, come to think of it, he did mention something about Elvis stamps. I didn't really understand it all, though.”

“I think I'd better start from the beginning. You were kind of out of it Friday when this story started to come together.”

* * * * * * 

George Fox paid the taxi driver and stepped onto the sidewalk. As the car turned the corner, Fox stared up at the huge globe over the entrance to the _Daily Planet_ building. “I don't understand why people can't see the threat to Earth from these alien beings,” he mumbled to himself. Pushing open the door, he walked up to the receptionist. “I'm George Fox. I have an appointment with Mr. White.”

Julie referred to her schedule book. “I don't see your name. Are you sure he's expecting you?” she asked pleasantly.

Fox smiled meekly, trying to gain the woman's cooperation. “I'm a little early. I was hoping he could work me in now.”

Scanning the page further, Julie found his name. “You're not scheduled to see Mr. White until eleven.”

“Yes, I know.” Fox removed his badge from his jacket and showed it to the woman. “I'm with the Federal Security Agency and this is a matter of national security. I need to see Mr. White as soon as possible.”

Julie suddenly recognized the name and remembered the rude phone call she'd received Friday. _This is the same man_ , she thought. Julie swallowed to control her temper and said, “I'll check to see if Mr. White is available.”

Fox placed his badge back into his pocket and responded with a curt, “Thank you.”

After several minutes on the phone, Julie looked up again. “I'm sorry, Mr. White is busy, but he said he'll see you as soon as he can.”

Fox frowned, but managed to say, “I'll wait.” Walking to the public waiting area, he poured himself some black coffee, and picked up the morning edition of the _Daily Planet_. He opened the paper and almost dropped his cup as he sat down, hard, into an uncomfortable chair.

In the middle of the front page was a full color picture of Superman holding a young boy. The large headline extending over the top of the photograph said, “Superman Rescues Child at Zoo”. Fox mumbled to himself, “Hmm, the reporter is Lois Lane. She certainly writes a lot about this alien. After I read this article, I'll ask to see her.”

* * * * * * 

Clark left the editor's office, went straight to Lois's desk and picked up her phone. When he punched the last number redial button, Jimmy's home number appeared in the display screen. After a dozen rings with no answer, Clark hung up and dialed Lois's number. Getting no response there either, he put down the receiver and walked to where Paul was sitting. “I think Lois and Jimmy have gone to LexPrint. I need to find them.”

Paul stood up. “I'll come with you.” Seeing a hesitation in Clark's face, Paul said quietly, “If they're in trouble, I might be able to help.”

“Okay,” Clark said. “Let's go.” The two men took the elevator to the lobby. Leaving the building by a side door, they caught a taxi just as it turned the corner. Neither man spoke during the short fifteen minute ride to West River LexPrint.

When the taxi dropped them off in front of LexPrint, Paul asked, “What do we do now?”

Clark scanned what he could of the complex with his x-ray vision. “I don't see them, but for some reason, parts of this place seem to be enclosed in lead, so they could still be here.” He shrugged. “I suppose we use the direct approach. The people here might actually be helpful. For sure, snooping around won't get us anywhere, if we get caught.”

“I agree. Maybe Lois and Jimmy have already been here and gone.”

The two men entered the door marked ‘Office’ and asked to see the manager. While waiting in the reception area, Clark listened to several conversations, but heard nothing suspicious.

After about five minutes a short, white-haired man approached them. “Hello, I'm Samuel Burns, general manager of West River LexPrint. How can I help you?”

Clark stood and shook hands with the man. “I'm Clark Kent and this is Paul Forrester. We're with the _Daily Planet_ and we'd like to ask you some questions.”

Mr. Burns shook Paul's hand as he said, “Sure, come to my office.”

 _The electric current of emotion coming from this man is almost overwhelming me_ , Paul thought. _He became very nervous when Clark mentioned the_ Daily Planet. _He's hiding something,_.

Mr. Burns led them to the rear of the reception area and into his office. “Please, take a seat. How can I help you?”

“Have a Lois Lane or Jimmy Olson been here this morning?” Clark asked.

Shaking his head, Mr. Burns said, “No. I've never heard of them.”

“Would anyone else know?”

“No. All visitors have to see me first and you're the only reporters who've been here today.”

 _I don't believe this guy_ , Clark thought. _I didn't tell him Lois and Jimmy were reporters. Still, I might learn something if I ask some questions_.

“We're interested in the process used to make postage stamps. Do you print them here?”

“Yes, that's one of the contracts we hold.”

“Can you tell us where the adhesive you use is manufactured?” Clark asked.

“How about I take you on a tour of the plant? You can ask your questions as we go along.” Standing, Mr. Burns motioned to the door and as the two men turned their backs to him, he pushed a hidden button under his desk.

Paul glanced at Clark as they walked out of the office side by side. In a voice too low to be heard by anyone except Clark, he whispered, “He's not telling the truth.”

Clark nodded imperceptibly to indicate his understanding and thought about his next move. _I'm glad Paul was able to confirm my suspicions about this guy. He's got a handy talent, for sure. However, right now, I believe the best thing for us to do is go with Burns, because he might lead us to Lois and Jimmy. Since I couldn't see them before, they must be in a shielded area of the plant._

The three men left the reception area through a side door, and Clark saw they had entered a large open warehouse. Turning to ask Mr. Burns a question, he found his arms held in the grasp of two large, heavily armed men. Two more men were holding Paul and another two were standing off a ways with high-powered automatic rifles pointed at them. Struggling enough to look convincing, Clark shouted, “What's the meaning of this?”

“I've had my fill of nosy reporters,” Burns said, as he walked around to face Clark and Paul. “I'll take you to your colleagues, now. In a little while I'm sure the boss will give the okay to do away with all of you.” Burns stood back and gestured to the guards to start moving.

Clark met Paul's eyes briefly before he was turned and pushed down the hall between the first two guards. Clark let himself be guided along behind Paul by the second pair of guards. The men with the rifles and Mr. Burns brought up the rear. _I hope Paul understands why I've not done anything to get us out of this situation. Even I would have a hard time keeping him safe from six men with guns. I also can't tip my hand until I find Lois and Jimmy. If I were to start something, they might move them or do something to them before I could get there._

After a lengthy walk through the plant, Clark found they were standing in front of a door with a sign: Dangerous Explosion Hazard! Entry by Authorized Personnel Only. Looking over the top of his glasses, he tried unsuccessfully to see through the door. _Lead_ , he thought. In a few seconds, Burns had the door open and the guards pushed Paul and Clark into the room. Clark saw his friends and said, “Lois, Jimmy!” He started to break away from the men holding him, but thought better of it and stood his ground.

“Clark, what are you doing here? Did you bring help?” Lois asked.

“How did I know you were going to be in trouble? Why would I have…”

“Enough with the reunion, all ready,” Burns said. He gave the same speech about the chemicals to Paul and Clark that he’d given to Jimmy and Lois. Burns pointed at Paul. “You three take that one to the far corner and chain him.” He pushed Clark before him. “You, go sit in that corner.”

Clark glared at Burns, but complied. As he let himself be chained to the pipes along the wall, Clark considered his options. _It might be necessary that I reveal myself to Lois and Jimmy, but if it means saving their lives, I'll do it. I can break these bonds easily, but the metal on metal friction could cause an explosion. With everyone so far apart I'd never be able to get all of them out of here in time._

Standing above the chained man, Burns grinned. “You shouldn't have to sit here too long, unlike your friends over there. The boss'll be back by noon and I'm sure he'll have you all moved to a more 'secure' location.” With a maniacal laugh, Burns and the guards left the room, dumping Paul's camera bag in the pile with Lois's and Jimmy's things.

Clark used his super-vision to examine the condition of his friends. _Lois and Jimmy seem very tired, but physically they appear to be okay. Paul is fine, but he's struggling against the chains, like he's trying to reach something_. Clark looked first at his left hand, then his right. _Since they've chained my arms spread from my body, I can't remove the manacles without putting pressure on the pipes and I can't take the chance of breaking them._

“Clark, does anyone know you're here?” Lois shouted.

 _Hmm, Lois is trying to talk to me. I can hear her, but I doubt she'll be able to understand me from this distance._ “Yes, Lois, the Chief knows we're here,” Clark yelled. “When we don't return soon, I hope he'll suspect something is wrong and send help.”

“Save your breath,” Lois mumbled to herself, “he can't hear you. Knowing Clark, he came without telling anyone.” She paused for a moment then continued what she thought was a solitary dialog. “No, Lane, you're the one who came in here and got caught. Can't you ever learn to stay out of trouble?”

 _As I figured, she can't hear me_. Clark spoke only to himself as he said, “No, Lois, I don't think you'll ever learn.” Watching Paul again, Clark saw he was still trying to contort his body into a shape to reach something in his pocket. _Paul is trying to be careful with the chains, but he'll never be able to get whatever it is he wants_.

Clark studied his manacles again and decided he had to do something. _Lois is looking right at me, but I'll hope she can't see well enough to tell what I'm doing. If I freeze these chains, I'll be able to break them easily without creating any sparks and without putting pressure on the pipes_. With that thought, Clark blew a freezing cloud of super-breath on the manacle on his right hand, being careful not to freeze the pipe. When the metal had frozen, Clark wiggled his arm and the cuff shattered. At super-speed he did the same thing to his left hand, then his leg chains.

 _If I go to Paul and come back quickly, Lois will never notice I've left this corner_. Clark shook off his bonds and ran at super-speed to Paul's side. Slowing only slightly, he said, “Tell me what you're trying to do. Maybe I can help.” He returned to his spot along the wall, sat down and looped the broken chains around his hands and feet so they would look intact from a distance.

Paul stopped trying to reach for the sphere when he heard Clark speak. _I only saw a blur_ , he thought, _but I know Clark was here_. Paul faced Clark and whispered, “My sphere is in my pants pocket. If I had it, I could put Lois and Jimmy to sleep.”

In the blink of an eye, Clark returned to Paul's side, pulled the sphere from his pocket, placed it in his hand, and went back to his own corner of the room. A few seconds after he finished putting the chains back around himself, he saw the blue glow of the sphere leap from Paul's hand. First Jimmy, then Lois slumped forward.

Clark ran to Paul's side a third time. He slowed to normal speed and said, “Thanks. I was beginning to think I'd have to reveal myself to Lois and Jimmy in order to get us out of here.”

Extinguishing the light of the sphere, Paul said, “I'm glad I could help. I knew you could free us, but I also knew I could keep your secret safe while you did it.”

Clark knelt beside his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for that. It means a lot to me.”

Paul felt a deep sincerity radiating from Clark. “Now, we need to hurry. They won't be asleep long.”

With no further delay, Clark gently broke the chains binding Paul. As the two of them stood, Clark asked, “Can you do anything with the door? I could break it open, but I'd rather not. It might cause a spark and set this whole place off.”

Paul walked to the front of the room and examined the lock. “Yes, I can easily open it. We'll also not risk alerting the people in the plant if I do it because it will be much quieter than you breaking it down.”

“Good point.” Clark went to release Jimmy and Lois. When he returned, he was in the Superman suit and was carrying Jimmy. He placed him on the floor next to Paul, then went back and got Lois. Clark picked up the camera bags and other things lying by the door. “Can you carry Jimmy?” he asked. “I'd rather we left together.”

“I agree.” The door opened and Paul put the sphere in his pocket. He picked up Jimmy and said “Let's get out of here.”

Clark used his x-ray vision to locate the proper passageway out of the plant and avoid the guards. Soon, Paul and he emerged onto the street behind the building. Scanning the area, he said, “Let's go over there, in that alley.” Stepping off the curb, Clark felt Lois stir.

Lois blinked and shook her head. “What…?”

“It's okay, I've got you,” Superman said, smiling down at the woman he carried in his arms.

“Superman. I knew you'd come.” Looking dreamily into the strong, noble face so close to hers, Lois sighed and put her head on his shoulder. When he placed her on her feet, Lois put her arms around his neck and gazed into his eyes. “Thank you for saving me, again.”

Superman grinned broadly. “It's always my pleasure.” Enjoying the closeness of this woman he loved, Superman wanted to embrace her and kiss her passionately. But Clark wanted Lois to fall in love with him, not Superman, so he resisted the temptation.

When Lois saw movement behind Superman, and realized Paul was carrying Jimmy, she broke her hold on Superman and ran to Paul. “Jimmy! Is he all right?”

Paul knelt, and put the young man on the ground. “I think he's okay.” He placed a hand on Jimmy's head and roused him.

Struggling to his feet, Jimmy asked, “Where am I? What happened?”

“Jimmy, you're fine,” Lois said. “We're all fine.” She paused. “Where's Clark?”

Superman ran back towards the building. “I'll go get him.”

As she watched Superman disappear from view, Lois thought about what she'd seen in the plant. _Before I passed out, I could have sworn I saw Clark out of his chains. When we were captured at Eprad, he got out of the chains and said it was a missing link. I wonder…. Stop it, Lois. That's the most ridiculous thing you've ever thought about. Superman and Clark can't be the same person._

In a few minutes, Lois saw Clark come out of the plant. “Where's Superman?”

“He's…he went looking for the men who did this to us.”

“Oh.” Lois continued to think. _Both Clark and Superman arrived in Metropolis at about the same time, but you know, I've never seen them together. My logic tells me it's impossible, but I can't help but wonder about those two_. Lois shook her head. _Quit it, Lane. The idea is absurd._

“Did any of you see a strange blue light in the room?” Lois asked.

Clark glanced at Paul. “I didn't see anything, except Superman.”

“Well, I did,” Lois said emphatically, “just before I passed out.” 

“Yes,” Jimmy said, confidently. “Me too. It was kind of pulsing and I heard a humming sound too. What about you, Paul?”

Paul shook his head. “I didn't see anything.”

“What is it with you two, are you blind?” Lois questioned. “There was something weird going on in there.”

“Really, Lois,” Clark insisted, “I didn't see or hear anything. Are you sure you didn't imagine it?”

“No! There was a light, and before that I saw a…a…cloud too, and then it got cold.” Lois's voice continued to rise and she spoke more and more rapidly. “You had to see it, Clark!”

Lifting his hands and letting them fall to his sides, Clark said, “But I didn't.” He glanced at Paul. “We didn't. You and Jimmy had been in that room for several hours and you were tired. The mind can play tricks on you.”

“I wasn't seeing things!” Lois shouted.

“Maybe the cloud was vapor from the tanks,” Clark offered.

“It wasn't coming from the tanks; it was over where you were! I also saw…or I think I saw you out of your chains!”

Clark shrugged. “I didn't see anything like that, and I certainly wasn't free, until Superman came and got me out. I still think you were just exhausted from being chained to a pipe all night. You were hallucinating.”

“I was not! Tell him Jimmy! You saw it too!”

Sensing her growing anxiety, Paul put a hand on Lois's shoulder and looked deeply into her eyes. In a few seconds, she relaxed. “You need to be calm now,” he said quietly.

Clark raised an eyebrow and exchanged a meaningful look with Paul. “I wish I could do that.”

“What?” Jimmy asked.

“Nothing,” Clark replied.

Jimmy saw a distinct change in Lois's attitude and wondered what had just happened. Glancing from Paul to Clark, it was obvious neither meant to explain anything.

“Will you be all right, now?” Paul asked as he removed his hand from Lois.

Not quite sure what she was feeling, Lois took a deep breath. “Yes, I'm okay.” Turning to Clark, she said with sincerity, “I'm sorry I shouted at you.”

He smiled. “You really weren't yourself. I can't blame you for being upset.”

Lois looked into the friendly eyes of her partner and saw a flicker of similarity with Superman. Studying him more closely she thought, _Clark is a 'Mr. Hardbody' and he's about the same height as Superman. He even has the same color hair, but the eyes really aren't anything alike_. Lois let out a deep breath. _There you go again, Lane, thinking impossible things. But still…_

Lois raised an eyebrow, “Clark, why haven't I ever seen Superman rescue you?”

Surprised at the question, Clark grinned, “I don't get in trouble as often as you.”

Frowning, Lois thought, _Okay, I guess I deserved that. I know I should stop thinking like this. It's foolish_. “Why is it when something happens, you always go for help, but never come back with anyone?”

“I guess because Superman always gets there first.”

 _Is that ever the truth!_ Lois tried to will herself to stop thinking silly thoughts, but her mind wouldn't quit. _Clark has written some stories with fabulous quotations from Superman. I wonder how he gets him to open up? Superman never stays to talk with me that long, and never talks with that much sincerity_. “Why don't I ever see you interview Superman? How do you get the stories you write?”

Seeing a movement out of the corner of his eye, Clark glanced at Paul and saw him back away and disappear behind a dumpster. With his discomfort mounting, Clark wanted to distract Lois from this line of questioning. “Why do you think Superman is your own private source?”

“I…I don't,” Lois stammered. “It's just I've never seen you with Superman and it seems kind of strange. When he agreed to leave Metropolis during the heat wave, you quit your job at the _Planet_. I thought it was because you were upset because Superman was leaving, but now, I'm not so sure.”

“What are you trying to say, Lois?” Jimmy laughed. “Do you think Clark is Superman?”

 _Now, you've done it, Lane. You've let your imagination get away from you and now you've made both Jimmy and Clark suspicious. You'd better decide what you believe in a hurry_. “Yes…no…I don't…I don't know what I believe.” Looking back and forth between the two men, Lois felt trapped. Suddenly, she thought, _I know how to tell if Clark is Superman_. Lois put her arms around Clark's neck, pulled his face to hers and kissed him.

Focused on the shocking scene in front of him, Jimmy almost missed the red, blue, and yellow streak flying through the air. He shouted and pointed upwards. “Look! There goes Superman now.” Putting his camera to his face, Jimmy took several pictures that framed Lois & Clark in the foreground, with Superman in the sky behind them.

Lois released her embrace of Clark in time to see Superman disappear over the city. She stood with her mouth open for several seconds. “I…I…”

With his hand cupped under Lois's chin, Clark gently pulled her face up to look into his. “It's all right, Lois. You probably haven't slept for hours and you're tired. You've been captured, chained, and threatened with death. I think under those circumstances, it is understandable you wouldn't be thinking straight. What do you say we all just forget what happened in the last few minutes?”

Lois mumbled. “Thanks, Clark. I guess you're right. I don't feel very good right now.”

“Maybe you and Jimmy should go home, rest and clean up,” Paul suggested.

Startled at hearing the previously quiet voice of the fourth member of their party, Lois said, “No, we have to contact the police about this place and get back to the _Planet_. We have a story to write.” Cocking her head sideways, she frowned at Paul. “Where've you been?”

“I saw Superman come out of the building and went to talk to him.” Paul met Clark's eyes. “He said he'd go to the police and let them know about this place. He wanted us to get out of the area before the men inside find out we've escaped.”

“I think that's a good idea,” Clark agreed. “We have been out here a long time. Let's find a taxi.”

* * * * * * 

“Mr. Fox,” Julie said, “Mr. White will see you now. Take the elevator to the floor…”

Jumping from his chair, George Fox growled, “I know how to get there.” While he waited for the doors to open, Fox thought, _the man's late. It's 11:30 and I've been waiting for over three hours. I certainly hope this guy can tell me more than that reporter did on Saturday_. When he stepped out of the elevator, Fox headed straight towards the editor's office.

Perry saw the stranger enter the newsroom and went to greet him. Opening the door as the man approached, he extended his hand, “Hello. I'm Perry White, editor-in-chief of the _Daily Planet_. Come in and have a seat.” As he closed the door and returned to his desk, Perry asked, “How can I help you?”

Fox displayed his badge and said, “I'm George Fox with the Federal Security Agency. I'm here to ask about Superman.”

“Superman?” Perry questioned. “He's one of the good guys. Why would someone from the government be asking questions about Superman?”

 _Oh boy_ , Fox thought, _he's another one under the influence of that alien. I don't think I'll get anything out of him either_.

* * * * * * 

Lex Luthor threw the file across the room. “What do you mean, returns are exceeding sales? How can that be?”

“I'm afraid many of the people who ordered items while under the influence of LL485 are calling and asking for refunds,” Nigel explained.

Luthor shouted, “Refuse to send them! It's a part of life that you don't get everything you want!”

“Sir, I'm afraid federal law requires a return period of at least thirty days. There's nothing we can do about it.”

“Of course there is! There's always something that can be done.” Luthor walked across the room to look out the penthouse window and stood thinking for a few seconds. “Just don't acknowledge the refund requests until the thirty days have run out.”

“But sir, that isn't possible. The calls to LSN have to be logged as they come in. People who are refused a refund could sue and get more than their purchase price.” When Luthor didn't respond, Nigel continued, “There's also something else, sir.”

Turning angrily, Luthor snapped. “What now?”

“A high percentage of the checks written are being returned for insufficient funds. LSN will lose money if these payments become uncollectable.”

Sitting at his desk, Luthor let out a deep breath. “I'm gone for a weekend, just a short jaunt to do some hunting for white rhino in the Amboseli National Park, and I come back to disaster. What more can go wrong?”

Just then the phone rang and Nigel answered. “It's Samuel Burns, general manager of West River LexPrint. He says it's urgent he talk with you.”

Taking the receiver, Luthor asked, “What is it, Burns?”

“We have a problem, Mr. Luthor. I've got four nosy reporters from the _Daily Plane_ t asking questions about our stamp printing project. What do you want me to do with them?”

“Who are they?”

“One is that woman, Lois Lane, and there are three men. I don't remember all their names.”

Luthor tilted his head back against his chair. “Lois, Lois, Lois. Why do you have to stick your pretty little nose in where it doesn't belong.”

“What, Mr. Luthor?” Burns asked. “I didn't hear that.”

Speaking into the phone again, Luthor said, “Does anyone outside of those four know about LL485?”

“I don't know, but I'm not sure they ever found anything, Mr. Luthor. We should still be in the clear to continue production.”

“No, Burns, stop the project. Dismantle the special equipment, destroy the records, and dump the LL485 in the river. Make sure there's no evidence left in the plant to connect us to the drug.”

“Right, Mr. Luthor. I can have everything out in a few hours. Now, what do you want me to do with these reporters. They know too much to let go.”

“You said they didn't find anything?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, that means they only think they know something. Be sure to destroy any recordings and film they have. After everything is cleaned up, call the police and report them as trespassers. We'll let the judicial system of this city deal with them.”

“Yes, Mr. Luthor. Good-bye.”

Hanging up the phone, Luthor looked at his assistant. “Well, Nigel, LL485 didn't work out exactly as planned.”

“No, sir.”

A sly look crept over Luthor's face as he picked up a cigar and clipped the end from it. “But, all is not lost. The idea of using an adhesive to deliver a drug to the masses is a good one. We'll use it again someday, when we have the right substance.”

“Very good, sir. Maybe a weaker concentration of LL485 would cause people to purchase items at a more moderate pace.”

Smiling broadly, Luthor took a long pull on his cigar. “Yes, and that way they wouldn't realize they were being manipulated. Get Gregson in here. He'll just have to alter the formula.”

“Yes, sir, right away, sir.”

Lex Luthor walked to the balcony and looked out over the city. “Each month, several million phone bills are sent to the residents of Metropolis by LexTel. Do you know what are in those bills, Nigel?”

“I'm not sure, sir.”

“Envelopes. Return envelopes made by LexPrint. Every month people put their payments inside those envelopes and lick the flap before mailing them.” Luthor turned to his assistant with a grin of satisfaction on his face.

“Jolly good, sir. Brilliant.”

* * * * * * 

Clark paid the taxi driver and joined his colleagues on the sidewalk in front of the _Planet_. “What about some lunch? It's almost noon and I know you haven't eaten in hours.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said enthusiastically. “I feel starved all of a sudden.”

“Yes,” Lois agreed, “I'd like to eat, too. But first I want to go to the lockers, clean up a little and change clothes.”

“Okay, why don't you and Jimmy do that, while Paul and I get some lunch. We'll meet in the newsroom, in about a half hour?”

“That sounds good,” Lois said. She and Jimmy entered the building and headed to the men's and women's lockers in the basement.

Clark turned to Paul and said with sincerity, “I want to thank you for that illusion you created at LexPrint.”

“It was nothing. I just helped my friend in his time of need. Isn't that what being a friend is all about?”

“It sure is. Lois was asking difficult questions and I didn't know how to get her to stop.” Clark laughed. “Let me tell you, I was completely taken by surprise to see Superman in the air. After the initial shock, I looked around and saw what you were doing through the dumpster. Still, that was one time I didn't have to fake a reaction.”

“I'm glad I could help. Lois shouldn't suspect you're Superman again, now that she's seen the two of you together.”

“That's right. You've given me a gift that will last forever. Thanks, friend.” Clark paused for an instant, and then became serious. “But right now, Superman has got to get to the police and report the incident at the plant.” He handed Paul a twenty dollar bill. “Will you go get some sandwiches at that deli up the street? I'll be back before Lois and Jimmy are ready.”

“Sure. Any particular kind you want?”

“It doesn't make much difference but Lois likes pastrami on white bread with low-fat mayonnaise,” Clark answered, as he grabbed at his tie and ran towards the alley.

* * * * * * 

Perry looked at his watch. “Mr. Fox, it's 12:15 and I have a luncheon engagement at 12:45. We'll have to end this conversation for now, but if you want to talk more, you can make another appointment.”

George Fox stood and shook hands. “No, I don't think that will be necessary. I thank you for your time.” Walking into the newsroom with the editor, Fox said, “This sure is a busy place. I never realized how much work it takes to put together a newspaper.”

Perry laughed. “I'd say most people don't understand what it takes to do this job.” While waiting for the elevator, Perry pointed out the various tasks being performed by his staff.

When he heard the doors open, Fox turned to face the elevator and saw five people. After three of them had exited, he recognized one of the men still inside. Lunging towards the opening he shouted, “Forrester!”

“It's Fox!” Paul exclaimed.

In a split second, Clark understood what was happening. At super-speed, he forced the doors closed and held them. “Punch the button for the top floor, Paul, and hold it down.” As soon the elevator started its ascent, Clark released the doors and changed into Superman.

“I can't believe he's here,” Paul gasped. “How does he always find us?”

The elevator slowed to a halt and the doors opened. Clark looked at his friend and said, “I don't know, but don't worry. I'll get you and Scott away from here.” Paul and Clark went up the stairs to the roof'. Taking Paul into his arms, Clark flew to his apartment as quickly as he could without causing harm to his passenger.

 

George Fox pounded on the elevator door. “Forrester! Come back here!” He turned to the editor. “That elevator went up. Where are the stairs?”

Perry stared at the suddenly irrational man. Pointing, he said, “That door leads to the stairway.” Fox pushed through the door and ran into Lois and Jimmy coming up from the basement. As soon as Fox left, Perry turned to his star reporter. “What was that all about? What does he want with Forrester?”

“Who knows?” Lois tilted her head towards the receding figure. “I talked to him on Saturday and he was asking questions about Superman. He did seem a little intense, but not completely crazy.”

“Where'd Kent and Forrester go?” Perry asked.

“I don't know, Chief,” Jimmy said.

“Well, I guess I'd better go cancel my lunch with Alice. I have a feeling that Fox fellow is going to be back and asking even more questions.”

 

Panting as he reached the roof, Fox searched every inch and found nothing. He took one last look around. “They weren't on the top floor, and they're not here, so they must have gone down. I'll just have to check.” He shook his head. “The people of Metropolis are harboring two aliens. What is this world coming to?”

 

Scott was sitting on the balcony of the apartment watching the pigeons fly when he saw Clark approach. Realizing his father was with him, Scott knew something wasn't right. He stood as they landed and asked, “What's going on?”

“Fox is here. We have to leave,” Paul said.

Clark watched father and son pack their few belongings at a speed that showed long practice. “Where do you want me to take you?”

“I suppose we should get as far away from here as possible.” Paul looked at his son. “What do you think of Seattle?”

Scott shrugged. “Any place is fine with me.” He frowned when he saw his father remove the sphere from his pocket. “What…?”

“Do you remember us talking about making an energy shield to keep you safe in space?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that's what I'm going to do now. Clark has to get back as soon as possible and this will allow him to fly at his maximum speed without hurting us. We'll be able to breathe and the shield will protect us from the friction.” Seeing his son's nod of understanding, Paul turned to Clark. “I guess we're ready.”

Clark followed his friends out onto the balcony and watched as Paul connected with the sphere. When the brilliant blue light had formed an envelope around the three of them, Clark knelt and extended his arms. Paul and Scott each sat on an arm and Clark picked them up and headed west as fast as he could fly.

Landing in a remote area near the waterfront in Seattle, Clark placed his friends on the ground. “I think you'll be safe here. Before I chose this place I made sure no one was around so we wouldn't be seen.”

“Thank you, for saving my son and me. We can't ever repay you,” Paul said, as he closed his hand over the sphere and let the energy shield drop.

Clark smiled and put his hands on Paul and Scott's shoulders. “It is I who should thank you, for giving me three of the most wonderful days of my life. A man couldn't ask for better friends.” After a moment of awkward silence, Clark let his hands drop. “What will you guys do?”

Paul glanced at Scott and saw his gloomy face. “I'll get a job somewhere and we'll start over again. Maybe I'll call a friend in Chicago and see if she has anything for me.”

“Is there any way I can get your pay from the _Planet_ to you?” Clark asked.

“If you could send it here,” Paul scribbled Liz's address on a scrap of paper, “I'd appreciate it.”

“Sure, no problem.” Clark turned to Scott. “We never did get to take that trip into space, did we?”

“No,” Scott said quietly.

“Well, maybe we'll be able to someday. You know how to find me.”

Brightening a little at that thought, Scott said, “Yeah, maybe we'll be able to visit you again.” Scott wished Clark could stay with them, but knew he had a life and responsibilities in Metropolis. “We'll keep in touch.”

Clark hugged his friends then lifted his arm into the air and rose about a foot from the ground. “Good-bye you two, and good luck.”

“Wait!” Scott shouted. “I almost forgot something.” Dropping his duffel bag to the ground, Scott searched its contents frantically. He pulled a small sack from a side pocket and handed it up to Clark. “I bought this for you while we were at the zoo. I was going to give it to you tonight.”

Descending to the ground, Clark opened the package. Inside was a small plaque with a picture of a cat and dog curled together in sleep. The verse along the bottom said, 'Though we may be different, our friendship will last forever'.

“Thank you, Scott,” Clark said as he looked from the item in his hand to the young man standing before him. “This means a lot to me, probably more than you can ever know.”

“I think I do know.” Scott blinked to keep the tears from his eyes. “Now, you'd better get back to Metropolis before somebody misses you.”

Clark took one last look at his friends and disappeared into the sky.

 

George Fox grumbled. “What's taking this elevator so long? If I weren't so exhausted, it would be faster to take the stairs to the newsroom.” He sighed, “I checked all the floors and no one saw them. How is it, no one ever sees it? What kind of powers does this alien have?” When the doors finally opened, Fox saw there was one person inside. _Hmm, this man looks vaguely familiar. I wonder where I've seen him before_. Stepping inside, Fox saw the button for the newsroom had already been pressed, so he stood back and tried to relax.

The elevator stopped and Fox walked into the newsroom. He saw the editor and the female reporter he'd talked to on Saturday standing near a desk. As he hurried down the ramp towards them, he didn't notice the other man following him.

“Mr. White, how long has Paul Forrester been working here?”

Raising his eyebrow at the unexpected question from Fox, Perry asked, “Why do you want to know?”

“All I can say is it's a matter of national security. Now, how long has he been in Metropolis?”

“What do you mean, 'national security',” Clark questioned.

Fox turned to face the person speaking and saw the man who had ridden down in the elevator with him. “Who are you?”

Clark reached out to shake hands. “Clark Kent, reporter.”

As he took the offered hand, Fox realized where he'd seen the man before. “You were in the elevator with Forrester when he escaped. Where did he go?”

“Escaped? What do you mean 'escaped'?”

“Just answer the question,” Fox demanded.

Clark shrugged. “He asked me to get him a taxi, so I did.”

“On the roof?”

“We didn't go to the roof.”

“But I saw the elevator go up.”

“We went up a couple of floors until we realized the elevator was going the wrong direction. We got off and took the other one down to the lobby.”

“Did Forrester tell you why he wanted to leave in such a hurry?”

“No.”

“Why did you help him?”

“Why wouldn't I help him? He's a friend.”

“He's a fugitive, wanted by the government.”

“A fugitive? Paul? I don't believe it.”

“Believe it. You're guilty of aiding in his escape.”

“How could I be? I didn't know he was 'escaping'. He just said he'd had dealings with you before and didn't want to talk to you.”

“He didn't say anything else?”

Clark scanned the attentive faces of Lois, Jimmy, and Perry. “Well, he did tell me he thought you were crazy.”

“Why did he say that?”

“Do you really want me to say, here in front of everyone?”

“Of course,” Fox responded angrily.

With a straight face, Clark said, “Paul told me you think he's an alien, from outer space.”

“Paul, an alien?” Lois exclaimed, just before she burst into uncontrolled laughter.

When Clark, Jimmy, and Perry joined in the laughter, Fox asked angrily, “Don't you people believe there are aliens on the planet? What about Superman?”

Catching his breath, Jimmy said, “Sure, Superman is an alien, but Paul Forrester? You've got to be kidding.”

Fox looked at the smiling faces around him, and then stared at Kent. “Did Forrester tell you where he was going?”

“No.”

“What taxi company did he get a ride with?”

“I didn't notice.”

“Hrumph,” Fox snorted. “What kind of reporter are you? Isn't paying attention to detail supposed to be part of your job?”

Clark shrugged but didn't respond.

“What was Forrester doing here?”

“Taking pictures, he's a photographer, you know.”

“Did he come to Metropolis to meet with Superman?”

“Superman?”

“Yes, Superman. Is Forrester working with Superman?”

“I don't think so. He was with me most of the day.”

Fox glared at Kent. “What do you know about Superman? You've talked to him. How do you contact that alien? When did you see him last?”

Clark shook his head, “Really mister, I don't know much about Superman. Lois over there talks to him more than I do.”

Fox turned to face the woman. “Are you going to tell me more than you did on Saturday?”

“There's nothing more to tell,” Lois said.

Fox scanned the faces of the reporters. _I don't think I'm going to get anything useful out of these people right now_. “I'll be back to find out more about your connections with Paul Forrester, and with Superman.”

As Fox left the newsroom, Perry shook his head. “Boy, that guy is close to the edge.”

“I think he's over the edge, Chief,” Lois said. “When I talked to him on Saturday, he reminded me of Trask, but in a lot of ways I think this guy's worse. At least Trask believes he's saving the world from a real alien. Fox is chasing after an ordinary person.” She slapped Clark in the chest. “Paul's no more an alien, than Clark is.”

Clark turned away so no one would see him suppress a grin.

“I talked to Fox for almost an hour today,” Perry said, “and while he kept repeating the same questions, phrased in a different manner, I didn't think he was irrational.”

“Well, Chief,” Jimmy said, “I guess that just proves some people aren't always what they seem.”

“You're right about that, son,” Perry agreed. “Did any of you know Elvis was born with blondish-brown hair?” When all around him shook their heads, he continued, “It's true. The King decided to dye it black because he liked singer Roy Orbison's jet-black hair. Elvis even convinced his mother to dye her hair black.”

“That's amazing, Chief,” Jimmy said. “Did any of you ever think, that maybe Superman isn't what he seems?”

“Why do you say that?” Lois asked.

“Because we don't know where he goes when he's not being Superman, right?”

“What do you mean, 'not being Superman'?” Lois asked. “Superman is Superman.”

“Yes, I know that. It's just I've been thinking about what you said outside the plant.”

“Well, forget that. I wasn't thinking straight.”

“Maybe so, but still, Superman isn't always around, right?

“Right,” Lois agreed.

“I think he does have an alter ego, and blends into the crowd when he's not being a super hero. Do you realize that somewhere out in the city, someone could be standing right next to Superman and not even know it?”

Clark smiled at the exchange among his friends. _And somewhere in Seattle, another alien and his son are trying to get a job. No one there knows they aren't what they seem, either._

Laughing, Lois said, “So you think Superman is just like any other guy on the street, huh?”

Jimmy shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Lois looked at Clark. “Because Superman isn't like any man on this planet, he's special.”

“I hate to interrupt this discussion,” Perry said, “but will one of you tell me what happened this morning?” He looked at Lois and Jimmy. “When Kent and Forrester left, the two of you were nowhere to be found.”

“The Chief's right,” Clark said, “we need to get back to business. We can't let those guys at LexPrint get away with anything.”

Lois, Jimmy, and Clark filled Perry in on their activities during the last several hours. A phone call to the police confirmed that Superman had notified them of the illegal activities at the printing plant. Samuel Burns was caught red-handed shredding documents related to the experimental drug, and some of his men were found dumping barrels of the stuff into the river.

“It's too bad there was no link to this mysterious 'boss' Burns talked about,” Perry said.

“Yeah, that would have made a really great ending to the story to bring down a major player in this city's crime scene,” Lois added.

Clark sighed and thought, _I know 'the boss' is Lex Luthor, but again, I have no proof. He owns LexPrint, but there was nothing to connect him directly to the illegal drug operation because he always protects himself with several layers of managers. That man always stays one step ahead of the law, and Superman, and I'm not sure how he does it. At least LexPrint will lose their government printing contract because of this incident, and Luthor will lose one more avenue of manipulation. That's something, anyway_.

“Hey, Clark, are you with us?”

Shaking his head when he realized Lois was speaking to him, Clark said, “Yes. What?”

“I was wondering if anyone knew how widespread the contamination had gotten. You talked to Inspector Henderson. Did he say?”

“Henderson said records in the plant showed production was just getting up to full capacity and nationwide distribution wasn't set to start until next week. It seems we, or really you, broke the story just in time.”

“Not soon enough for all those people who spent hundreds of dollars on things they didn't really want or need,” Lois continued. “Some people have wiped themselves out financially.”

“Actually,” Perry stated, “it's possible to return anything purchased within a thirty-day period for a full refund. People only have to keep items they really want. I sent back most of the junk I bought.”

“Most, Chief?” Jimmy asked. “What did you keep?”

“Why, the Elvis poseable figures of course.” All four people laughed long and hard. Finally catching his breath, Perry continued, soberly, “You know, a drug addiction is a subtle thing. It can reach out and grab you before you even know it.”

“For sure with this stuff, since you didn't know you were taking it,” Clark added.

“That's right,” Perry agreed, “but even when you do know you're taking something, it can take over your life before you know it, especially if someone you trust gives it to you. The King's first exposure to drugs came during his Army days when one of his sergeants gave him and the other soldiers Dexedrine so they could stay awake at night while on guard duty. On August 15, 1977, the day before Elvis died, his personal physician, Dr. Nichopolous, wrote a prescription for over 600 pills, including both uppers and downers. We in America trust doctors, but some of them don't have the best interest of their patients in mind.”

“That's right,” Lois agreed. “Everyone needs to think twice before putting anything into their mouth. I know I'm going to wonder what's on the back of a stamp every time I lick one.”

###    
**Tuesday, May 20**  


George Fox sat in his office thinking about the last few days. _Well, what have I learned? The people of Metropolis believe in this Superman. He's well liked, and his presence is accepted by the police and the military. Why should I care?_ Standing and walking to the coffee pot, Fox poured himself a cup.

His eyes stopped on the pictures of Forrester and the boy on his wall. _Because Superman is an alien, and all aliens have to be investigated, that's why. But I don't have any funding to pursue Superman and I need to concentrate on finding Forrester. I'll leave Superman to Bureau 39_. Fox took a sip of his coffee, and then continued his internal dialog. _It wasn't worth talking to those reporters again. They wouldn't give me straight answers about Forrester any more than they did about Superman_.

Hearing the intercom buzz, Fox went to his desk and pushed the button. “What is it, Edna?”

“Th-there's a man…a…someone here to see you, Mr. Fox.”

“Who is it? I'm not expecting anyone.”

“He…didn't give me a name, he just said you'd want to talk to him.”

Fox rolled his eyes and wondered who the mystery visitor was. _Since he won't identify himself to Edna, it's probably someone here to investigate my little unauthorized trip to Metropolis_. “It's all right, Edna, send him in.” Fox walked around his desk and sat down. He looked up when the door opened, and his mouth dropped.

“Hello, Mr. Fox, I'm Superman. I understand you want to talk to me.”

Fox stood and tentatively took the offered hand. “Y-yes, I have. Please, take a seat.”

As Superman sat in front of the desk, he pointed to the pictures of Paul and Scott. “Friends of yours?”

“Well, uh, not exactly.”

“I met them last week, in Metropolis.”

“You met them?” Fox asked incredulously.

“Yes, they're very nice people.” Superman saw a frown come to Fox's face. “Why do I get the idea that bothers you?”

“Is there a reason for it to bother me?”

“No, Mr. Fox, there isn't. Now, let's talk.”

* * * * * * 

Paul hung up the phone and looked at his son. “Liz says if we can get to a place called Roslyn by tomorrow there'll be a job waiting for me.”

“What kind of job?”

“A television production company filming in the town is looking for a still photographer to do publicity shots.”

“A television company, huh? That sounds like fun. What are they doing in—what did you call it—Roslyn?”

“I'm not sure. Liz said it's a regular TV series that's been on a few years. She also told me the town is small, off the highway, and quiet. We wouldn't get much exposure there.”

“That sounds good to me. How do we get there?”

“We have to go downtown and catch the Greyhound bus. Roslyn is about sixty miles east of Seattle.”

Picking up his bag, Paul began to walk. After a few minutes he laughed aloud.

“What's so funny?” Scott asked.

“I was just thinking about Fox. While he was waiting for an elevator in Metropolis, we were almost 3000 miles away. We've never moved that fast before.”

Scott joined his father in laughter. “That's for sure, Dad.” After several minutes of quiet as they walked side by side, Scott looked at his father. “Do you think the world will ever accept us, like they have Superman?”

Shifting his burden to the opposite side, Paul put his arm across his son's shoulders. “I hope so, Scott. Clark is leading a somewhat normal life and someday I believe he'll marry Lois and have a family.” With a reassuring smile, Paul said, “Someday, we'll find your mom and be a family too.”

THE END

Reflections on Coincidence

There were so many “coincidences” and interesting facts I learned while I was writing FRIENDS FOREVER, it is amazing. Since Starman fans like such things, I thought I'd share some with you. While driving to Utah to work on STARCROSSED with Bruce, I passed a U-Haul trailer that had the name of the little town in New York that I'd picked out for my gymnastic event location.

I planned to set my story in May because that is peak tornado season for Kansas. It was a happy coincidence the writers of “Lois & Clark” also used May for the arrival of Clark's ship. I didn't pick the May 17, 1966 date for Clark's appearance on Earth by chance or because of the close proximity to the May 18 date that is relevant to “Starman” for a lot of reasons. May 17 is specifically mentioned in the “Lois & Clark”.

In my research on adoption, I found that many adoptees who don't know their birthday often celebrate the date they joined a family or the date their adoption became final. The birthday scenes in FRIENDS FOREVER came about because of this research. I used some direct quotes from books on adoption about the feelings some adoptees have, though I sometimes put them in Clark's mouth.

The use of 1966 is relevant for another reason. Dean Cain's birthday is July 31, 1966. Like Clark Kent, Dean Cain didn't know his birth father. There was recently a picture of Dean Cain in the newspaper with Amy Dolenz (Kelly in “One for the Road”). He and Scott have shared a girl friend.

Some of you may wonder why all the mentions of Elvis. In “Lois & Clark” Perry White is an avid fan. While looking for tidbits to use in the story, I came across the UFO report Elvis made in 1966. Is there any way I could not use that? All the Elvis facts used in FRIENDS FOREVER are true. Dale Midkiff, who was Darien Lambert in “Time Trax”, did play Elvis in a movie.

Some of my editors questioned me having Lois even suggest she suspected Clark was Superman. But she is an intelligent person and I felt I needed to provide her a reason for not seeing what seems so obvious. So very early after the appearance of Superman, she sees the two of them together because of what Paul did, and never again will have such thoughts.

Acknowledgment

A special thanks goes to the many people who helped me with FRIENDS FOREVER. Jessie K., our secretary at work, spent many hours brainstorming on ideas. A lot of FRIENDS FOREVER came from these sessions. Todd A., Patti H., and Ardith B., my aunt, also contributed some ideas I used. Joel B., a co-worker, and Roger W., my boss, added specific scenes or solutions to problems.

In researching the information for FRIENDS FOREVER I called upon people in various places to make it as accurate as possible. Patty D. provided invaluable information on tornadoes in Kansas. She sent me actual watch and warning text from the sheriff's office where she works. Charlotte D. contributed specific information about rush hour traffic and travel to Metropolis from Washington DC. Alice A. and Edie T. spent a long time sending me information I'd requested, which it ended up that I couldn't use. I thank these ladies for their time also. I thank Eleanor E., the postmaster where I live, for helping me find out about stamp printing. It is true that the government doesn't print all the stamps, though I've learned most people don't know that.

Some of the ideas and scenes in here came from current events in our area. The explosive property of the propyl acetate is real. While writing this story, there was an explosion at a printing plant near where I live. The drive-by shooting with the good Samaritan and policeman's funeral are a composite of some incidents that have happened here, used with some literary license.

As with any crossover, you can't make the dates work, though if Scott were born in 1978, a more reasonable time given the launch of the Voyager in 1977, he would be about the right age for FRIENDS FOREVER in 1994. No date is given in “Lois & Clark”, but it appears to be set sometime in the future because of various events and items that are used in the show, so 1994 doesn't work either.

I especially thank those who read the draft copies of FRIENDS FOREVER. Todd, Joyce, Joel, and Abraxan spent many hours of their time correcting and suggesting changes to FRIENDS FOREVER. When Clark Kent corrects Lois Lane's grammar, she says “That's why we have editors”. True. Abraxan spent many hours giving me lessons on grammar, punctuation, and style.

Most of all, I want to thank Bruce for suggesting STARCROSSED. Without him I never would have thought of the perfect fit between “Starman” and “Lois & Clark”. One day I saw a vision of Paul Forrester in a newspaper office and I saw Clark Kent in a newspaper office and suddenly the similarities between Paul, Scott and Clark came rushing to me. FRIENDS FOREVER was born at that moment, though it took six months of work to make it a reality.

I hope you've enjoyed reading FRIENDS FOREVER as much as I've enjoyed writing it. It didn't start out to be so long and involved, but the more I thought about these people together, more and more scenes suggested themselves. They truly have some amazing similarities.


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